ALBEBT  F.  KEKCHEV 


I.I  l  IRARY 

:  II) 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

«.!!•!      • 


.-,89  . 

/  /o/t&J<S . 


DOLORES; 


OTHER   POEMS. 


BY 


ALBERT  F.  KERCHEVAL. 


UFI7BESIT 


SAN    FRANCISCO: 
A.  L.  BANCROFT  &   Co.,  PUBLISHERS,  721   MARKET  STKEET. 

1883. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1883,  by 

ALBERT  F.  KHRCHEVAL, 
/*  thereto/  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


TO    THE 

GRAND   ARMY   OF   CALIFORNIA   PIONEERS, 

THE     GREAT     "  SILENT     MAJORITY"     GONE     BEFORE,     AND     THE    FAST 

DWINDLING   REMNANT    SOON   TO    FOLLOW, 

THIS    VOLUME    IS    MOST    REVERENTLY   AND    AFFECTIONATELY 

DEDICATED    BY   THEIR   COMRADE. 

THE    AUTHOR. 


DEDICA  TION. 

Comrades,  we  havt  won  the  ; 

Lies  the  Promised  Land 
Gently  fall  the  shades  of  night, 
Softly,  slowly  fades  the  light, 

Starry  glory  g! 

It  is  well!     O,  Comrcuies,  sleep- 
Weary  with  the  toilsome  »: 

. 

But  a  little. 

Still  our  wtiy  'mid  deserts 

Comrades,  Brothers  g. 

•  with  life's  mockery  hollov>. 
Camping  on  the  other  shore, 
Waked  from  slumber  >: 

O,  sleep! — we  soon  shall  folloiv  ! 


Ye  lie  where  the  gleaming  snows 

Flash  far  in  their  chilly  splendor; 
Ye  rest  where  the  drooping  rose 

/;<•;/,/.,  /  ;,-  in  its  glory  tender; 
Ye  sleep  in  the  lonely  I 

'•e  (lie  tnira^fs  gleam  and  glitter 
In  the  glare  of  the  desert  sands, 

Where  the  alkali  lakes  are  bitter— 
In  the  gloom  of  the  solemn  hush 

re  the  canyon's  dim  .v 
In  the  track  of  the  snow-slide's  r. 

re  the  trea  .team  and  s; 

Ye  lie  as  the  harvest  sheaves 

O'er  the  field  by  the  reaper  gathered— 
Thick,  thick  as  the  autumn  I 

The  breath  of  the  frost  hath  withered— 
Where  the  T  <J"d  wide, 

By  margin  of  brook  and  river; 
By  the  murrnti 

Ye  slumber  in  peace  forerer! 


NOTICES  OF  POEMS  BY  THE  PRESS. 


[  ALBERT   F.    KERCHEVAL.  ] 


was  given  to  the  world.  It  possesses  immense  power,  and  revels  in  a  majestic,  Miltonian  measure, 
which  no  modern  poet,  within  our  recollection,  has  so  long,  so  purely,  and  so  musically  sustained. 
We  are  willing  to  promise  this  poem  wide  recognition,  and  lasting  reputation." — Col.  J.  J.  Ayers, 
Los  Angeles  Express. 

"  We  publish  on  the  first  page  of  this  issue  Mr.  A.  F.  Kercheval's  grand  poem  on  Shakespeare 
We  consider  it  a  very  powerful  production,  and  although  less  subtile  than  poor  Pollock's  '  Chandos 
Picture,'  it  pays  a  vigorous  and  lofty  tribute  to  the  genius  of  the  great  bard.  Mr.  Kercheval  pos 
sesses  the  poetic  art  in  an  eminent  degree,  and  in  this  poem  sustains  a  measure  with  great  purity 
and  melody  which  is  at  once  difficult  and  ponderous." — [From  the  same.] 

"We  publish  to-day,  a  genuine  poetic  gem  from  the  gifted  pen  of  Mr.  Albert  F.  Kercheval. 
The  soft  music  of  its  rhythm,  the  delicate  beauty  of  its  word  tracery,  its  exquisite  lights  and  shades, 
and  golden  vein  of  imagery,  all  stamp  it  as  a  piece  which  could  only  emanate  from  true  poetic 
genius, — 'A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream.'  " — Express. 

"  Mr.  A.  F.  Kercheval's  pen  picture  of  'The  days  of  '49, 'published  to-day,  is,  in  our  opinion 
the  best  poetical  sketch  of  the  anomalous  condition  of  society  in  those  times  that  has  yet  been 
published.  Read  it." — Maj.  Ben.  C.  Truman,  Los  Angeles  Star. 

"  We  publish  to-day,  another  grand  poem  from  Mr.  A.  F.  Kercheval.  There  is  a  sonorous  sub 
limity  in  his  treatment  of  lofty  subjects,  which,  without  fear  of  respectable  contradiction,  we  pro 
nounce  unequaled  by  any  contemporaneous  poet, — '  Ode  to  the  Sun.'  "  Express. 

"  The  refined  reader  will  thank  us  for  publishing  the  sublime  poem  'Mono,'  from  the  pen  of  Mr. 
A.  F.  Kercheval.  It  is  a  powerful  painting,  and  breathes  the  very  genius  of  the  ghastly  and  repul 
sive  solitudes  of  that  blasted  region." — Express. 

"  The  appointment  of  Mr.  A.  F.  Kercheval  by  the  Fourth  of  July  Literary  Committee,  as  Poet 
of  the  Day,  reflects  credit  upon  that  committee.  We  shall  look  for  something  very  superior  from 
his  pen.  He  has  written  by  far  the  best  poetry  yet  produced  on  the  Pacific  Coast,  (we  do  not 
except  Pollock,)  and  his  tribute  to  Shakespeare,  his  '  Ode  to  the  Sun,'  and  his  poem  '  Oblivion  *  are 
productions  which  Byron  would  have  been  glad  to  have  baptized  with  his  imprimatur." — Los  An 
geles  Express. 

"  '  Charlie  Ross,'  by  Mr.  A.  F.  Kercheval,  published  in  to-day's  Express  is  one  of  the  wittiest 
and  neatest  things  we  have  read  in  an  age." — Express. 

"  We  publish  to-day  another  poem  from  our  gifted  contributor,  Mr.  A.  F.  Kercheval,  '  Sierra.' 
It  is  a  sublime  effort,  repleie  with  lofty  thought  and  splendid  imagery.  So  powerful  a  poem  should 
obtain  for  our  local  bard  the  entree  into  the  most  select  literary  publications  in  the  country,  and  we 
hope  yet  to  see  his  occasional  pieces  gathered  in  a  volume  and  given  to  the  world." — Express. 

"  Friday  evening's  Express  contained .a  poem  by  Mr.  A.  F.  Kercheval,  entitled  'Sierra,'  that 
should  be  read  by  all  who  admire  a  sterling  production.  It  is  grand  in  conception,  felicitous  in 
method,  and  graceful  in  word  painting.  Mr.  Kercheval  has  a  good  many  styles,  but  '  Sierra'  is  in 
his  best.  He  reminds  us  of  Stedman  and  Carlcton,  as  a  general  thing.  Yet  he  is  a  man  <<f  poetic 
surprises.  One  day  he  will  rattle  off  something  of  the  Bret  Harte  style,  except  that  the  effort  is  a 
superior  one,  and  again  his  name  appears  to  a  poem  that  would  rank  with  some  of  Joaquin  Miller's 
in  exquisite  sentiment  and  sublime  thought.  We  cannot  resist  copying  the  last  two  verses." — Maj. 
Ben.  C.  Truman,  Star. 

"  We  commend  the  following  little  gem,  from  the  sparkling  pen  of  Mr.  Albert  F.  Kercheval,  to 
the  perusal  of  our  readers.  A  gentleman  of  critical  discrimination  has  made  the  following  com 
ments  upon  it:  '  This  is  the  prettiest  and  most  perfect  gem  that  I  have  yet  seen  from  Mr.  Kerche 
val's  gifted  pen  ' — '  To  a  Humming-bird.'  " — Express. 

"A  soul-inspiring  poem,  which  will  awake  an  echo  in  the  heart  of  every  patriot,  will  be  found 
in  another  column.  Jt  is  from,  the  pen  of  our  farmer-poet,  Albert  F.  Kercheval,  who,  if  he  get  his 
due,  will  have  a  national  reputation  in  as  short  a  time  as  it  has  taken  him  to  acquire  a  local  one,— 
'  Stand  by  the  President.'  " — Republican, 

"A  most  eloquent  and  affecting  tribute  to  Hon.  O.  P.  Morton,  from  the  poet,  Kercheval,  will  be 
found  elsewhere.  No  patriot  can  read  it  without  deep  emotion." — Los  Angeles  Republican. 

5 


'  of  THK'" 

fUHlVERSITTJ 

. 


Vi  PRESS   NOTICES. 

••Kerrhevar«  Poem*.     A  desire  has  been  expressed,  by  a  large  number  of  the  people  of  Los 
Angeles,  that  our  esteemed  fcllow-citiren.  Albert   F.  Kcrchcval.  would  allow  the  nubhc:.t 
volume  :re  «.f  his  numerous  friends,  and  for  the  purpose  of  puttin. 

manent  form  1.  '  tul  pemsihal  have  been  float  ing  about  in  a  fragmentary  fora  forscvcral 

ycars      v.  :  Mr.  Ker..hev.il  will  probably  accede  to  this  earnest  desireon  the 

:s  numerous  friends,  and  puLli>h  in  the  near  future  a  duodecimo  volume  of  his  poetical 
.:-hcation  would  be  warmly  welcomed  by  the  people  of  our  great  Common- 
wealth,  among  whom  Mr.  Kcrchcval  has  resided  (or  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century.  "-Republican. 

••  Mr.  Albert  F.  Kcrcheval.  the  sweet  poet  of  Los  Angeles,  another  of  whose  meritorious  pro 
ductions  we  reprint  to-day,  is  shortly  to  publUh  his  many  beautiful  poems  in  book  form.  —  banta 
Barbara  Prtss. 

"The  granger-poet,  Albert  F.  Kerchcval,  of  Los  Angeles,  has  been  solicited  to  publish  a  volume 
•  -ms  and  has  consented.     All  his  poems  arc  readable,  while  some  are  really  K.  ms,  and  we 
are  pleased  to  find  that  a  prophet  may  be  honored  in  his  own  country."—  Culton  Scmt-Tropic. 

"Mr  A.  F.  Kercheval  favors  us  to-day  with  an  exquisitely  sweet  little  poem.  It  breathes  of 
verdure  and  flowers  and  velvety  gl  :  pples  as  smoothly  as  the  lucid  waters  of  abrook  over 

a  bed  of  marble  pebbles,—'  Come  Again,  Gentle  Kain.'  "—Express. 

"The  Hods  love  god*  poetry.     KerchcvaPs  sweet  lines,  «  Come  Again,  Gentle  Rain.'  which  we 
published  Saturday  afternoon,  bore  almost  instant  fruit.     As  lovely  and  beneficent  a  rain  % 
aswc  .iuwcd  swift  in  the  train  of  the  gentle  invo.:..  ac.] 

publish  on  this  page  a  little  gem  of  poetry  by  Albert  F.  Kercheval,  of  Los  Angel- 
w  rcrall  the  name  of  any  poet  in  whose  fertile  brain  the  Muses  have  woven  sweeter  fan- 
a  Outlook. 

"  Mr.  A.  F.  Keroheval  tries  his  master-hand  in  a  new  line  of  poetry  to-day.  In  '  Mr.  McPhcr- 
son  '  he  ha-  Riven  us  a  very  finished  production,  in  which  satire  and  humor  arc  exquisitely  blend- 
cJ."—  /-  .»/•-«*. 

\.  F.  Kercheval  contributes  a  most  exquisite  little  poem  entitled  •  F.vr.1     Its  tones  are  as 
dreamy  and  shadowy  and  poetic  as  the  soft-fa  '.  .:hor  has 

I  art  in  the  ethereal  glamour  and  repose  which  he  throws  around  his 
delightful  picture."  —  ILxpress. 

••  \Vc  commend  to  our  readers  the  perusal  of  Mr.  Kercheval's  poem  '  Cctawayo.'    It  has  two 

striking  merits  —  one  itsca->v.  \v;  the  other.  .ration  from  a  subject  so  unportn: 

lint  Mr.  Krrcheval   MB  .  try,  !  ist 

has  the  power  t  the  most  prosy  and  uninspiring  subjects,  the  fire  and  magnetism  of  his 

own  poetic  nature."—  Exprtst. 

[  ROSALIE  W.    KERCHEVAL.  ] 

"Our  readers  who  have  often  been  delighted  with  the  poems  of  our  son  ^trr,  A.  F.  Kcrcheval, 
will  be  still  more  pleased  to  sec  that  his  young  daughter,  Rosalie,  has  entered  the  lists  as  a  competi 
tor  for  poetic  honors  with  her  talented  father."—  AY/«£/. 


••  conductor  of  the  Commercial  is  not  in  the  habit  of  publishing  original  poetry  in 
limns,  but  when  a  composition  of  so  much  sweetness.  and  M  full  "f  p  <eti.:  smtiri 
Dream,'  which  appears  in  our  columns  to-day,  from  the  gr.  <•  Kcrchcval  is 

offered,  we  take  pleasure  r  :!»e  same.       '  ;  if  Mr.  A.   1  . 

•,  and  is  in  no  way  inferior  to  her  father  indelicacy  of  thought  and  smoothness 
of  rhythm."  —  Comt>: 

I  Rosalie  Kcrcheval  furnishes  us  a  very  cleverly  written  poem,  which  we  publish  on  our 
fourth  page.     Miss  Kerchr  'v  maintains  her  light  t  •  tin-  name  she  bears,  and  her  verses 

show  that  poetry  is  a  hereditary  gift  in  the  Kerchcval  family.' 

"  Mi^  Rosalie  Kercheval.  daughter  rules  a  beautiful  poem,  entitled 

•Summer  Time,'  to  the  June  number  ol  the  Horticulturist."—  Cvmnu  -rcial. 

!rr  the  title  of*  Inspiration,'  we  present  to  our  readers  this  nv>rnintj  a  very  exquisite  little 
poem  1  .  -:  Kerclicval,  the  Rifted  daught'  .ihlonu.i.  Mr.  A.   1. 

Kerchcval.     It  is  hi  .    .li.ui  harp,  with  fanciful  ton  li  and  deft  mastery  of  rhynlc 

and  rhythm."—  Los  Angeles  Herald. 


CONTENTS. 


SERIOUS  AND  SENTIMENTAL. 


Page. 

Above  the  Clouds ,  .„ „_ 336 

Abalone 293 

After  All 212 

Alamo ' 298 

Alexandrian  Revel 330 

Alcyone 323 

Ariel  of  the  Spring,  The 304 

"  As  the  Grass  " 295 

Autumn 1 16 

Aubrey's  Ride 198 

Bridal  Veil,  The 84 

Bubble  and  Shadow 235 

Butterfly,  To  A 91 

Burriel 50 

Bubbles 299 

Captivity,  The 1 53 

Centennial  Hymn,  1876,  A 264 

Children  of  the  Sun,  The 66 

City  of  Silence,  The 288 

Come  Again,  Gentle  Rain 184 

Comet,  To  the 139 

Custer 103 

Day 40 

Darkness  and  Light „ 291 

Desert  Mirage,  The 209 

Death  Valley * .  319 

Decoration  Poem  (May  30,  1879. )    X  125 

Decoration  Poem  (May  30,  1880.) \  98 

Decoration  Poem  (iSSi.) , J  326 

Decoration  Poem  (May  30,  1882.) I  107 

Dedication  Poem  for  Downey  College 201 

Death  of  Samson,  The 248 

Dirge .'.  / 97 

Donner 266 

Dotage 83 

Dolores 15 


CON  I 

Page. 

I  >reams  ol  an  I  lour 234 

1  learnings •    265 

1  learning  by  the  >  55 

1  >rcams  of  Youth  ......  89 

•  and  Ashc,  ....    243 

;  Sumiucr.  .  .  

Katon,  Treble  County,  Ohio 

105 

Erin— (iSCo.)... 

;  \ 

Evening .188 

S31 

Fading  Roses .    197 

Fall  of  Vanity,  The. ...  .  .    2  16 

1'inis .312 



of  the  Commandment  159 

Glory's  Last  Dream 231 

God's  Country — California 

Ilesperia. .  .  . .     41 

Hope s- 

llumming-birl,  To  A  .  .  .  .  .    355 

Illusion .65 

Illusion..  .  .  2S3 

Illinois i-' i 

In  Memoriam — (John  Glass.) .    322 

jn 

Jack  Van  Duscn. .  

Jubilee  Poem          .  .  .    2\j 

mette,"Thc....  .305 

ida  <le  la  Mut-rte  (The  Jo-.inv.-y  of  I  )c.ith) •  •      59 

i  ump,  The 

"Life  I>  but  a  Dream*  •  •  347 

• 
. 

•    '  ! 

.  .     IOO 

. 

; 

I  '.inorama .  .                                                                                                   301 

Life  and  Death..                                                                                                              ..  287 

.  r  56 

Magdalcna .  208 

104 

Meeting  of  the  Kings,  The   

Memorial  Poem  (May  30,  1883.) 145 


CONTENTS.  ix 

Page. 

Mississippi 109 

Miserere  Domine ' no 

Midnight  Musings 113 

Mission  San  Gabriel 205 

Mission  San  Fernando,  A.  D.,  1882 280 

Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  A 45 

Mount  San  Bernardino 87 

Montecito 147 

Moon,  To  the 144 

Mono 151 

Moonlight  in  Los  Angeles 46 

Morton 137 

Mutations 253 

Murder 135 

Mystery 310 

Never  Go  Back  on  a  Friend • 134 

Northland  and  Southland 1 36 

' '  Nevermore  " 90 

Oblivion 189 

October V:'?'*,: ..-.^  ... 129 

Ode  to  the  Sun 157 

"Old  John  Brown".... ^^jr? .  Off.  XIU; . . .  .  :£\ £5 

Opening  of  the  Seals,  The — (Revelation*)  .^ :«  jr. WE  Xf  IT-  £  T-'!p  •V-Ji 308 

Orange  Tree,  The %•  •  •  —  •••••-  —  • a- 142 

Ostrich,  The 311 

Our  Dead  President ..... .; .. 296 

Pasadena . . . : ./"YD  i  «>•<«  r'T^T 324 

Perished  Cities 284 

Phantom  City,  The ' 51 

Phantoms 262 

Pioneer  Reveille 228 

Poem— (July  4th,   1875.) 249 

Poem  for  Union  Temperance  Meeting 191 

Poem  for  Southern  California  Horticultural  Exposition 219 

Poem— (To  Teachers  of  Los  Angeles  Public  Schools.) 357 

Queen  of  the  Angels,  The— (1781-1881.) 344 

Requiem  for  the  Old  Year,  A 1 24 

Relieved  (Burial  Hymn) ...  187 

Remorse -76 

Reveries  at  Eve ...    42 

Rest -79 

River  of  Death,  The :-7 

Riverside 95 

San  Diego --5 

Sea,  By  the 120 

Sea,  O,  Sea -37 

Sequoia  Gigantea 185 


B 

Pace. 

Shad  .  ...  263 

Shakespcar  360 

Shiloh  2I3 

- 

.  .  - 

Signs.  & 

Sir  John •••    l82 

Snowstorm  i;  . .    in 

Song  of  the  Drum,  Thr  •    I23 

Soul,  To  the...  23" 
Song  of  Thank- 
Song  of  the  \Vii. 
Song  of  theLocomotivr.    i 

Song  of  the  !           •  3°o 

Song  of  the  Old  and  the  New,  A -245 

Song  of  Sighs ...  92 

Song  of  the  Queen,  T!:  •  •  93 

Song  of  the  Sain  -94 

...  !"9 

Song •  =-»7 

Springtime '      254 

Stand  by  the  Preside: ,t 

Su  h  •/  f5S 

Suiter's  Tort     •  •  •     43 

Sunris- & 

•  335 

T  of  the  Seas  Tin-     . 

ThcrmopyLu 

"T 

To  Our  

i  : 

Vanuc.  ••••    !33 

Vcra 

' 

Vintage,  Ti 

' 

Welco; 

Welcome  from  Los  Angeles  to  S.ui   1'r 

me,  Gentle  Rain !3° 

"  What  Is  the  S  ...Si 

-poor-will -343 

\Voc  !  255 

Work  and  \\  -321 

fog ....  260 

Yucca  . ,  349 


"ROUGHNESS." 

HUMOROUS  AND  SEMI-HUMOROUS. 


Page. 
Alkali  Jim 405 

Ashmead 371 

Alameda  Street  Goat,  To  the 430 

Autopsical 428 

Bully  for  Elaine 378 

Baby 392 

Cetawayo 384 

Charley  Ross 404 

Charge  of  the  Light  (Clad)  Brigade,  The 407 

"  Come,  Where  Your  Love  Lies  Dreaming" 374 

Czar's  Coronation,  The 376 

Dam(n)  the  Debris _ , 375 

Denis  Kearney ^4 

Diospyrus  Kaki  ("  Fruit  of  the  Gods.") 418 

Dynamo 442 

Eastern  Question,  The 410 

Fact  vs.  Science '..... 373 

Go  Slow,  Young  Man 382 

Ilattie  Higgins _  .• 420 

Hot !  Hotter ! !  Hottest ! ! ! 443 

In  Camp — 1849 400 

In  Memoriam '. 417 

John  Doe 445 

John  Chinaman ;  My  Jo,  John 383 

Jim  Blaine 433 

King  Theebau 396 

"Lo!  the  Poor  Indian" 447 

Landlord's  Story,  The 449 

Mr.  McPherson 416 

Modern  Love's  Young  Dream 419 

O!  Semi-Trop 398 

"O!  Why  Should  the  Spirit  of  Mortal  Be  Proud  ?  " 387 

Oleomargarine 390 

Our  Late  Celebration 412 

Our  Party  at  Murderer's  Bar 367 

Picnic  Poetry 448 

"  Poor  Old  Bones  " 399 

Ravoninahtritriniarivo 395 

Romeo  and  Juliet  (Modern  Version) 456 

Stock  Wizards,  The 431 

Song  of  Chin  Lan  Pin,  The 411 

Smith,  of  "  Sucker  Flat " 380 

That  Little  Difficulty  'Twixt  Me  and  Joe  McNulty 435 

Trouble 389 

Ye  Weather  Prophet 379 


POEMS    BY   ROSALIE  W.   KERCHEVAL. 

Page. 

Antony  After  the  Defeat 506 

Among  the  Flowers 468 

Along  the  Shore 5 

Coliseum,!                                                   523 

Cleopa  -  jliloquy 

.   .  ..• 4-Si 

-  501 

kk . .  511 

Dawning 

.    '.    .                              t 

\  . .            : 

:              >ne,  The 510 

'        i        ^ima,  The- ...  512 

From  the   1'iiit 

of . \i-ht,  The 

Fort  on  t'.jc  Hill,  The $16 

( iolden  Summer,  A 

icir.orkun — (Eugenia.) 

.'ion 5 

•    i  '    v > 

;i  —  ( I  lenry  \V.  Longfellow) > 



;      ne,  The - 

Memphis 499 

Night i 

Tide,  To  the 

I'hanta     7 

.    i    .  • '  i 

Rose,  To  A » 

Summer  Time 

'. 

Siege  of  Monterey,  The .518 

Song  of  the  Tro;.                                     }• 

.  •  5°7 



•  -1^4 

.    :  y,  A 463 

Unforgivi-M -  5-7 

fthcSumn.'    .    \ 526 

Weariness 5°3 

12 


SERIOUS  AND  SENTIMENTAL. 


DOLORES 

[A  LEGEND  OF  THE   MISSION   SAN    GABRIEL.] 


Ye  who  are  tired  of  thfc  world,  weary  of  ways  of  cities, 
Dizzy  with  Life's  swift  whirl,  sweeping  in  mazy  circle, 
Sick  at  heart  with  the  empty,  frivolous  freaks  of  Fashion, 
Tired  of  gilded  show,  loathing  Earth's  vanities  fleeting, 
Leave  for  a  while  its  cares,  hollowness  and  heartburnings ; 
Know  what  it  is  to  live  free  from  frail  folly's  trammels ; 
Wander  with  me  to  the  vale,  softest  of  earth's  and  fairest, 
Where  restful  Nature  dreams,  slumbers  and  smiles  the  sweetest: 
Here  in  San  Gabriel's  vale,  bitterness,  strife,  forgetting, 
Look  on  a  vision  fair,  bright  as  the  dream  of  Eden  ; 
Look  on  its  trees  of  life,  wisdom  and  strength,  free-giving; 
Pluck  of  the  golden  fruits,  tempting  and  unforbidden; 
Eat  and  ye  shall  not  die  ; — fear  not  the  curse  primeval, 
Here  stands  no  angel  dread,  guarding  the  flowery  portal, 
Threatening  with  sword  of  flame,  they  that  may  long  to  enter. 

This  is  the  Mission  gray,  tottering  with  age  and  hoary ; 

Here  cluster  round  its  door,  round  its  quaint  altar  mouldy, 

Many  a  tale  of  the  past,  many  a  dim  tradition; 

Many  a  tender  dream,  many  a  memory  holy — 

All  that  to  human  heart  is  purified,  high  and  sacred ; 

Still  call  its  silvery  bells,  waking  the  slumbering  echoes, 

Telling  the  tale  of  Faith,  childlike,  trustful  and  simple, 

Kept  through  dim  Time's  mutations,  kept  through  a  century's 

changes ; 

Here  in  its  churchyard  quaint,  slumber  a  century's  dreamers; 
Dreamers  of  fond  romance,  dreamers  of  pride,  ambition  ; 
Dreamers  of  gorgeous  dreams,  blissful  and  ever-changing, 
Even  as  ours  to-day.     Lo  !  from  the  memory  fading, 
As  the  deep  sunset  glows  into  the  misty  twilight, 


1 6  Dolores. 

Dreamless,  oblivious,  still,  passionless  dust  and  ashes. 
Tenderly,  softly  step,  here  are  the  graves  of  sleepers 
Long  ago  mourned  and  wept;  long  ago  all  forgotten— 
Patriarchs  of  the  past,  matrons  and  youths  and  maidens, 
Children  that  laughed  in  glee,  infants  that  lisped  and  prattled, 
Here  in  this  quiet  spot  sleeping  the  last  deep  slumber. 

Here  arc  two  crosses  dim ;  these  arc  the  graves  of  lovers, 

Constant  to  each  through  life;  here,  but  in  death  united — 

Noble  and  brave  Gonzalcs;  sorrowful,  sweet  Dolores. 

Ye  that  may  wonder  here  ever  came  sin  and  sorrow 

Blasting  the  flowers  of  love,  sweet  in  their  spring-time  blooming; 

Ye  that  would  fain  forget  earth  and  its  fretful  chafing, 

Turn  from  life's  cares  a  space;  this  is  the  story — listen  : 

Backward,  O  memory!  turn  over  a  century's  pages; 
Gaze  on  a  virgin  scene,  dim  through  the  mists  and  hazes  ; 
Land  of  unclouded  skies,  kissed  by  the  south  sea  zephyr, 
As  v/ith  a  dreamy  spell  of  magic  the  soul  entrancing; 
Breath  of  perpetual  Spring,  murmur  of  crystal  fountains 
Glory  of  myriad  flowers,  carpet-like,  far,  wide-spread ii 
League  upon  league  of  splendor;  year  after  year  bright  fleeting, 
Lulling  the  soul  to  sleep  with  pastoral  sounds  inviting, 
•ii  by  vision  chased,  dream  after  dream  succeeding; 
Peace  with  soft  folded  wings;  Plenty  dark  Care  far  cl. 
Cattle-clothed  all  thy  plains,  steeds  like  hosts  battle-marshaled  ; 
Happy  the  countless  herds;  all  thy  sweet  bowers  and  woodlands 
Thrilled  with  the  songster's  notes,  meadow-lark's  and  the  linnet's, 
Glad  with  their  hymns  of  praise,  the  musical  mock-bird's  measure; 
Gem  of  the  queenly  West,  gleaming  in  golden  setting, 
Laved  by  the  Occident  seas,  girt  by  the  tall  Sierras — 
This  was  the  picture  framed — the  Land  of  the  early  Missions. 

Patriarchs  watching  their  flocks,  clouding  their  leagues  wide- 
spreading; 

Year  after  year  waxing  richer  in  herds  and  in  blooming  children. 
Sweetly  the  Mission  bells  calling  to  prayer  at  vesper; 


Dolores.  \  j 

Happy  the  primitive  life  of  the  people  trustful  and  simple, 
Year  after  year  going  by,  peace  and  contentment  filling-, 
Watching  their  blooming  bowers,  orange  and  bending  olive, 
Bright-flushed  pomegranate's  glow,  purple  of  trailing  vineyards; 
Life  gliding  by  as  a  dream ;  somnolent  at  the  noontide, 
Quickened  at  morn  and  eve  by  the  sweet  dewy  freshness ; 
Nought  to  disturb  the  dream,  save  when  some  daring  trader 
Braving  the  countless  leagues  and  loneliness  of  boundless  ocean, 
Came  with  white  wings  outspread,  like  a  sea  bird's  gleaming  and 

flashing 

Over  the  trackless  waste,  arid  folding  his  pinions  wearv, 
Rested  and  rode  in  peace,  in  the  slumbering  bay  of  San  Pedro; 

Or  when  the  heathen  hordes,  the  treacherous  tribes  of  the  desert 

Came  from  the  lonely  wastes,  their  unknown  haunts  far  eastward, 

Over  the  seas  of  sand,  over  the  drear  Mohave, 

Over  the  deathly  plains  of  desolate  Amargosa, 

Down  through  the  lone  Cajon,  or  -slumber-rapt  San  Fernando, 

Raiding  the  peaceful  lands,  despoiling  the  rich  ranchcros; 

Coming  with  serpent-stealth,  and  passing  away  like  the  whirlwind, 

Back  to  their  gloomy  dens  in  the  desolate  heart  of  the  desert, 

Bearing  rich  booty  of  steeds,  maidens  and  children  captive. 

Here  in  the  Mission  shades,  pure  as  the  dew-drop  sparkling, 

Here  livetf  and  loved  a  maid,  sorrowful,  sweet  Dolores, 

Beautiful  as  a  dream,  fair  as  our  mother  primal, 

Ere  the  false  serpent  came,  ere  to  his  tale  she  listened ; 

Blest  by  the  young  and  old,  blest  by  the  holy  padres, 

Shedding  on  all  her  love,  shedding  o'er  all  a  sunshine. 

Hither  from  vales  afar,  many  an  ardent  wooer, 

Pleading  his  passion's  suit,  many  a  caballero 

Came  in  hope's  pomp  and  pride,  boasting  his  birth  and  riches; 

Whispered  his  tale  of  love,  went  on  his  way  in  sorrow; 

One  with  a  wrathful  heart,  full  of  revenge  and  anger, 

Fierce  as  the  grizzly  roused,  Lopez,  of  San  Diego. 

Only  one  gallant,  bold,  noblest  of  all,  Gonzalcs, 

Lord  of  a  wide  domain,  bursting  with  generous  fullness, 

Spurring  his  glossy  steed,  gentle,  yet  proud  and  daring, 


i  S  Dolores. 

Came  in  the  flush  of  hope,  rode  not  away  despairing; 
Back  to  his  countless  herds  clothing  the  plain  in  fatness, 
Back  to  his  sylvan  home,  the  valley  of  San  Fernando, 
Hearing  with  him  a  heart  true  as  the  word  eternal, 
Taking  with  him  a  love  priceless  above  all  treasure; 
So  like  a  dream  the  days  passed  to  the  blissful  lovers; 

r  the  flowery  leagues  spreading  like  gorgeous  carpet, 
Day  after  day  like  the  wind  came  he  with  haste  impatient. 
Spurring  his  noble  steed  came  he  with  ardent  longing. 

CHAPTER  IT. 

Sweet  is  thy  wine,  O  love,  to  the  lips  that  once  have  tasted  ! 
Sad  is  thy  heart,  O  dove,  when  Springtime's  flush  is  wasted  ! 
Sunshine  and  smile  and  May,  how  should  we  dream  of  sorrow ! 
Bluest  of  skies  to  day,  darkest  of  storm  to-morrow. 
Spring  in  the  sun-kissed  land,  fanned  by  the  softest  zephyrs; 
Is  o'er  the  flowery  leagues,  wheeling  like  war's  battalions; 
Stallions  tossing  their  manes,  marshaling  sleek  manadas, 
Proud  as  imperious  sultans,  jealously  guarding  their  harems; 
Picturesque,  swift  vaqucros,  sweeping  the  plain  like  whirlwind, 
Proud  in  their  gay  attire,  silver-gilt  all  their  trappings, 
Saddles,  and  bridles, and  spurs;  gorgeous  in  calzoneros 
Flashing  with  silvery  gleams,  shadowed  by  broad  sombreros; 
Hurling  with  circling  sweep  the  coil  of  the  deadly  lasso. 

Twilight  and  hush  of  eve!  forth  in  the  whispering  shadow, 
Under  the  sighing  trees,  wandered  the  blissful  maiden, 
Dreaming  the  old,  sweet  dream,  dreamed  through  the  countless 

ages; 

Dreaming  of  naught  but  love,  soon  would  her  lover  claim  her, 
Soon  would  to-morrow's  sun  look  on  two  hearts  united ; 
Blest  be  their  happy  love,  by  the  priest  at  the  holy  altar. 
Noiseless  and  swift,  a  form  gliding  from  out  the  darkness 
Sprang,  as  the  panther  springs,  suddenly  on  his  victim; 
.Seizing  her  trembling  form,  fierce  in  his  cruel  talons, 
.Stifled  her  cries  for  help,  grasping  her  fair  throat  rudely; 


Dolores.  1 9 

Muffled  her  shrieks  and  moans  in  the  folds  of  her  own  rebosa; 
Fastened  her  slender  wrists  each  to  the  other  firmly — 
So  bore  her  swooning  form  forth  to  a  steed  in  waiting-, 
Guarded  by  comrades  twain,  shrouded  in  gloom  and  shadow. 
Swift  on  his  steed  he  sprang,  snatching  her  form  unconscious, 
Fierce  from  his  henchmen's  arms,  bidding  them  quickly  follow; 
Madly  the  hoof-strokes  rang  out  on  the  stilly  darkness, 
Slackening  not  their  speed  till  wild  San  Gabriel's  torrent, 
Savage  and  bowlder-strewn,  muttered  and  moaned  before  them. 
Hard  by  the  canyon's  mouth  other  fresh  steeds  awaited — • 
One  for  the  captive  maid,  led  by  her  cruel  captors ; 
Then  at  a  brief  command,  muttered  and  stern,  by  the  leader, 
Onward  and  upward  they  pressed,  onward  'mid  fear  and  danger. 

On  through  the  canyon's  jaws,  threatening  with  death  and  terror, 
Riven  in  ages  past  in  the  throes  of  the  earth's  convulsions; 
Breasting  the  torrent's  wrath,  over  the  treacherous  bowlders, 
Through  the  dark  chaparral  wastes,  thorny  and  thick  and  cruel ; 
Up  over  dizzy  steeps,  scaling  precipitous  faces, 
Pallid  and  white  with  awe,  blanched  as  in  fear  forever; 
On  through  the  moaning  pines,  over  the  jagged  ranges, 
Till  on  the  second  day,  weary  and  faint,  exhausted, 
Ceased  they  their  fearful  flight,  resting  where  none  might  follow; 
Hard  by  a  limpid  lake,  deep  in  the  wild  desolation 
Halted  they  in  their  ride,  freeing  their  trembling  captive, 
Here  'mid  the  splintered  peaks — the  heart  of  Sierra  Madre. 

Quickly  a  couch  they  made  under  a  pine-tree  spreading, 
Matted  and  thick  with  boughs  fresh  from  the  fir-tree  taken, 
Spreading  o'er  all  with  care,  gorgeous  and  bright  scrapes  ; 
Soon  brought  they  forth  and  spread  store  of  provisions  ample — 
Wine  of  the  Mission  rare,  wine  in  quaint  leathern  bottles; 
Then  to  his  comrades,  low  whispered  their  swarthy  leader, 
Waved  them  away  with  signs,  with  an  impatient  gesture; 
Quickly  they  strode  their  steeds,  taking  their  way  in  silence, 
Over  the  crested  range,  vanishing  dim  as  phantoms. 


2O  Dolores. 

"  J/7  Oncrida"  then  soft  spoke  the  villain  Lopez, 

"  Cease  from  your  sighs  and  tears,  smile  on  your  own  true  lover; 

This  is  our  bridal  bed;  this  is  our  bridal  banquet. 

What  though  no  priest  is  nigh?  all  is  the  same  to-morrow; 

Then  will  we  homeward  ride,  go  to  confession  meekly, 

Telling  the  oft  told  talc,  asking  the  padre's  blessing — 

Presents  to  sleek  fat  priests,  renders  the  Church  compliant 

So  let  us  cat  and  drink  making  a  merry  bridal, 

Night  with  her  shadowy  wings,  soon  o'er  our  couch  will  hover — 

Sweet  be  your  dreams  of  love,  here  in  our  bridal  chamber." 

'  K'it  will  I  not,  nor  drink !  why  have  you  brought  me  hither? 

Is  it  a  lover's  part  thus  to  insult  the  help!' 

Take  me  back  to  my  home,  back  to  the  holy  Mission, 

Back  to  my  own  true  friends,  they  that  will  mourn  and  miss  me; 

So  shall  my  heart  forgive  truly  your  sin  and  m;uli 

Praying  that  Christ  himself,  even  may  so  forgive  you!" 

Saying,  the  maiden  turned,  soft  with  her  eyes  imploring, 

Unto  the  villain's  gaze,  seeking  remorse  and  pity. 

Yet  sought  she  vainly  there,  hoping  at  last  contrition ; 
Fiercely  and  deep  he  drank,  eagerly  with  the  viands, 
Like  a  long  famished  wolf  sated  his  brutal  hunger, 
Making  no  more  reply  to  the  sad  tearful  maiden, 
Prayerfully,  trembling,  upward  lifting  her  eyes  beseeching. 

Night,  with  her  crown  of  stars,  came  in  her  regal  glo 
Slow  climbed  the  moon  the  cast,  over  the  spectral  ranges, 
Gilding  each  lofty  peak,  gilding  the  heights  supernal, 
Everywhere  seemed  to  reign  stillness  and  awe  eternal; 
Never  a  night-bird's  call,  never  an  insect's  quaver, 
Silence  like  hush  of  death,  solitude  deep  and  utter, 
Broken  rudely  at  last  by  the  treacherous  wily  villain: 
"Yield  to  my  fond  desires,  scornful  and  proud  Dolores, 
Twice  have  I  humbly  sued,  twice  have  you  spurned  my  offer; 
Yet  if  you  still  refuse,  who  shall  prevent  my  triumph? 
Here  rule  I  this  lone  realm,  here  am  I  lord  and  master; 


Dolores.  2 1 

Mine  shall  you  only  be,  willingly  or  unwilling — 
This  my  determined  will,  heaven  nor  hell  shall  frustrate; 
Here  are  no  eyes  to  see ;  here  are  no  ears  to  listen ; 
Vain  will  your  outcry  be,  vain  all  your  weak  resistance; 
Far  from  all  human  aid,  hope  not  my  strength  to  baffle, 
Spite  of  your  puny  will,  mine  shall  you  be  forever  ! " 

Swift  as  the  lightning's  flash  fades  from  the  dark  horizon, 
Fled  from  her  cheeks  the  crimson,  white  was  her  face  and  pallid ; 
White  as  the  seas  with  awe,  when  earthquake  tremors  trouble. 
"  Coward  and  wretch,"  she  said,  "  tearing  defenseless  maidens 
Thus  from  their  homes  at  night;  have  you  no  feelings  human? 
Renegade  from  the  Faith,  mocking  at  all  things  holy, 
Why  do  you  treat  me  thus,  why  do  you  persecute  me, 
Knowing  full  well  my  heart  long  ago  was  another's  ? 
Beasts  of  the  field  have  hearts,  lions  and  wolves  have  pity  ! 
Yet  if  you  have  no  heart,  yet  if  you  have  no  mercy, 
Christ  and  the  angels  all,  surely  will  not  desert  me — 
Mary,  mother  of  Christ,  she  will  protect  and  shield  me; 
Yet  will  I  with  her  aid,  yield  to  your  foul  lust  never ! " 

"  Cease  pretty  fool  this  show ;  cease  all  this  idle  nonsense, 
Mummery  old  and  stale ! "  spake  he  in  accents  sneering. 
"  Call  on  your  useless  Saints,  call  on  your  Virgin  Mary, 
Powerless  to  help  you  now — mine  shall  you  be,  caramba!  " 
Saying,  he  seized  her  waist — delicate,  lithe  and  slender — 
As  the  fierce,  cruel  hawk  seizes  the  ring-dove  tender; 
Yet  slipped  she  from  his  grasp,  forth  into  darkness  fleeing, 
Fleeing  in  wild  despair,  blindly,  she  knew  not  whither, 
Through  the  dark  chaparral  line,  into  its  refuge  thorny; 
Vain  was  her  flight,  his  hands  outstretching  reached  to  grasp  her, 
Shrinking,  she  tripped  and  fell  in  the  thick  maze  entangled; 
Stumbling  in  headlong  haste,  fell  her  pursuer  over — 
Only  an  instant  more  felt  she  his  arms  embrace  her; 
Felt  his  hot  fevered  breath,  hot  as  the  breath  of  Satan, 
Scorching  her  check  and  lips,  scorching  her  throbbing  bosom; 
Then  of  a  sudden  heard  crashing  of  thorn  and  jungle, 
Heard  a  despairing  shriek,  struggle  and  roar  appalling, 


j  j  Dolores. 

Crashing  and  combat  fierce,  crunching  of  bone  and  muscle; 
Caught  but  an  instant  glimpse  of  a  monster  huge  and  grizzly 
Holding  in  death's  embrace  the  form  of  the  villain  Lopez. 
Groping,  she  blindly  rose,  dizzy  her  tottering  senses, 

;ing  her  trembling  limbs  faint,  from  that  scene  of  horror, 
Listening  for  sounds  of  fear,  steps  of  pursuit  that  came  not; 
Then  in  the  cool  night  air,  quickly  her  strength  reviving, 
Fled  from  that  pall  of  death — the  chaparral's  awful  shadow — 
Into  the  shimmering  light,  into  the  moonlit  open; 
Wildly  in  fear  she  fled,  looking  not  round  or  backward, 
Fleeing  in  desperate  haste  onward,  she  knew  not  whither. 

On  through  the  deep,  lone  night,  through  the  thick,  thorny  jungle, 
'Xeath  the  tail  sighing  pines,  'ncath  the  dark,  shadowy  ccd 
Startled  by  every  sound,  startled  at  every  shadow, 
Till  at  the  break  of  day,  torn  by  the  thorns  and  bleeding, 
Paused  she  in  shrinking  awe,  on  the  brink  of  a  mighty  canyon. 

Swift  fled  the  shades  of  night,  up  rose  the  sun  in  splendor, 
Flashing  afar  his  beams,  bathing  the  peaks  in  glory, 
Lower  and  lower  still,  shadows  of  blue  and  purple, 
Clothed  the  precipitous  sides,  fading  in  indistinct^ 
Down  into  fathomless  depths — the  beds  of  the  awful  canyons, 
Shrouded  in  fears  unknown,  vague  and  mysterious  terrors; 
Yet  must  she  venture  down  into  that  gloomy  terror; 
Only  might  thus  her  path  lead  from  those  heights  eternal, 
Downward  to  home  and  friends,  down  to  the  smiling  valley, 
Nestling  in  dreamful  bliss,  quietness,  peace  and  plenty. 

Down  sank  her  dizzy  way,  through  the  thick,  thorny  tangle, 
Down  over  shelving  steeps,  splintered,  shuddering,  swooning, 
Downward,  'mid  trembling  awe,  sinking  and  ever  sinking; 
Danger  and  death  behind,  danger  and  death  before  her, 
Till  reached  her  fearful  feet  safety  and  rest  at  bottom ; 
Here  'mid  the  depths  profound,  loneliness  and  desolation, 
Faint  peeped  the  mid-day  sun,  peering  with  trembling  glances, 
Into  that  gloomy  gorge,  savage  and  wild  Tehunga ! 


Dolores.  23 

CHAPTER   III. 

What  of  her  lover  true,  waiting  with  heart  impatient  ? 
What  of  her  anxious  friends,  waiting  the  dawn  of  morning;- 
Fearing,  yet  knowing  not  the  mystery  of  her  absence  ? 
Still  dreaming  not  of  treachery,  capture  and  abduction — • 
Who  could  harbor  thought  of  hatred  for  sweet  Dolores  ? 
Vainly  they  searched  the  groves,  vainly  they  searched  the  vine 
yard, 

Every  sequestered  nook,  every  deep  shadowy  arbor — 
Never  a  trace  found  they  there  of  the  missing  maiden ; 
Then  with  an  anxious  heart,  up  spoke  the  good,  old  padre — 
"  This  is  some  hellish  plot — this  is  the  work  of  Satan, 
Let  the  blest  holy  bells  call  all  the  people  hither, 
That  we  may  seek  to  question,  that  we  may  meet  for  counsel." 

Forth  rang  the  silvery  call  over  the  vale  far  floating, 
Far  through  the  canyons  deep,  echoing,  fainting,  dying; 
Over  the  mesas  wide,  dying  away  in  cadence, 
Faint  in  the  trembling  blue,  soft  as  an  angel's  whisper. 

Swift  from  afar  and  near,  gathered  the  bold  rancheros; 

Maidens  timorous,  shy;  dark-eyed  women  and  children; 

Neophytes  from  the  fields;  hardy  and  bronzed  vaqueros, 

Lasso  at  saddle-bow,  picturesque  in  their  trappings, 

Curbing  their  headlong  steeds,  sudden  in  swift  careering, 

Till  within  call  of  bell  never  a  human  tarried, 

Hastened  they  every  one;  all  at  the  church  were  gathered. 

Question  to  one  and  all,  answer  of  all  unvaried ; 

Never  the  slighest  trace,  no  one  had  seen  the  maiden. 

Then  said  the  padre,  gray:  "  Surely,  our  well-loved  daughter, 

Unto  our  sacred  fold  doubtless  is  lost  forever, 

Else  if  we  make  delay,  else  if  we  search  not  quickly, 

Meanwhile  His  holy  aid,  constantly  still  imploring." 

Then  at  the  altar,  kneeling  lowly,  a  prayer  he  offered, 
Prayer  to  the  Throne  of  Grace,  craving  a  special  blessing, 
Prayer  to  the  Holy  Son,  help  at  His  hands  beseeching, 


7BRSITM 


24  Dolores. 

Prayer  to  the  Holy  Virgin,  help  at  her  hands  imploring; 

Then  when  the  prayer  was  o'er,  blest  and  dismissed  them,  saying, 

"Seek  ye  our  white  lamb  lost,  seek  yc  the  gentle  maiden." 

Over  the  plains  outspread,  galloped  the  swift  vaqucros, 
Darting  away  like  bees  seeking  their  nectar-treasure; 
Everywhere,  cast  and  south,  sweeping  the  far  horizon; 

:y  where  to  the  west,  down  to  the  sighing  ocean, 
Searching  with  eagle  glance,  every  lone  nook  and  corner; 
Pausing  not  in  their  search  through  the  long  sunshine  dazzle, 
Save  for  a  moment's  rest  under  some  lone  aliso, 
Or  where  some  glossy  oak  wide  spread  his  cl:>ak  umbrageous. 
Searched  they  the  reedy  marge  of  each  lone,  still  laguna, 
Where,  as  in  awe  and  fear,  quivered  the  tufted  tulc; 
Everywhere  to  the  north,  through  the  tall  giant  mountains, 

(1  as  in  war's   array — footmen   through  all  the  canyons, 
Sought  with  incessant  zeal — never  a  trace  discovered — 
All  coming  back  at  last,  weary  and  disappointed, 
Save  only  one,  Gonzalcs;  he  to  the  north  and  eastward, 
Spurring  with  frenzied  speed,  came  to  San  Gabriel's  canyon  ; 
Saw  where    the   hoof-marks  entered,   plunged  in  its   bed   and 

followed; 

Yet  made  but  progress  slow;  lost  was  the  trail,  and  often 
Over  the  gravelly  capes,  'mid  the  smooth  slippery  bowlders 
Paving  the  torrent's  bed,  chaparral  thickets  thorny; 
Here  found  he  proof  at  last,  absolute  and  convincing, 
She,  that  his  true  heart  sought,  still  was  before  him,  captive; 
In  a  dark  tangled  maze,  held  by  a  manzanita, 
Muttered  a  silken  floss,  frayed  from  her  scarf  of  crimson, 
One  that  himself  had  tied  round  her  fair  waist  at  parting. 
So  kept  he  on  his  way,  longing  with  heart  impatient; 
So  wound  the  canyon  deep  into  the  heart  of  the  mountains, 
Kverywl  it  and  left,  gashed  by  the  gloomy  gorges, 

Followed  he  on  and  on,  up  o'er  the  lofty  ranges, 

hing  at  last  the  camp  of  the  treacherous  villain  Lopez; 
Found  not  that  fearful  spot — the  scene  of  the  deadly  conflict — 
Knew  not  the  one  he  sought,  \\andcred  e'en  then  so  near  him; 


Dolores.  2  5 

Followed  the  trail  fresh  made  by  the  villain's  companions  recent, 
Eastward  with  tortuous  way,  winding  'mid  awe  and  danger; 
Followed  impetuous  on,  seeking  the  maiden's  traces, 
Lost  'mid  the  mazes  deep,  of  the  savage  and  lonely  mountains. 

Down  from  that  dizzy  height,  down  from  the  eagle's  eyrie; 
Out  on  the  plain  at  last,  out  on  the  drear  Mohave ; 
Onward  o'er  lonely  wastes,  onward  'mid  deathly  silence; 
Over  the  burning  sands  glaring  eternal,  eastward 
Kept  he  his  fearful  way,  mocked  by  the  changeful  mirage; 
Rivers  that  flashed  afar,  lakes  glancing  soft,  wide-spreading; 
Cities  that  gleamed  and  blazed  bright  in  their  gorgeous  splendor; 
Forms  that  continued  not,  shifting  and  evanescent, 
Evermore  fleeing  far,  taunting  as  in  derision; 
Melting  as  melts  the  mist,  fading  as  fades  a  vision; 
So  day  and  night  he  rode,  so  night  and  day  he  wandered 
Over  the  death-hushed  wastes,  reached  the  lone  ghostly  moun 
tains, 

Blasted  as  by  the  breath  blown  from  hell's  inmost  centre; 
Dried  were  earth's  shriveled  veins,  never  a  spring's  glad,  pulsing 
Bubble  of  crystal  brook,  never  a  fountain's  murmur 
Gave  to  that  desert  life,  hope  to  a  bud  or  blossom. 

Down  dropped  his  noble  steed,  dying  of  thirst  and  hunger; 

Pitiless  glared  the  sun,  pitiless  glared  the  desert ; 

Fever  and  frenzy  came,  thirst  with  its  fancies  thronging, 

Haunting  like  nightmare  dream,  only  a  quenchless  longing, 

Only  a  fierce  desire,  longing  for  water — water 

Held  all  his  senses  thralled,  everything  else  forgotten, 

Till  in  a  death-deep  swoon,  sank  his  dim  reason's  glimmer. 

Consciousness  faint  at  last,  strength  and  returning  reason ; 
What  was  this  moving  throng,  whose  were  the  forms  surrounding . 
Shadowy  as  a  dream,  quivered  the  past  before  him, — 
Was  all  the  past  a  dream,  faded  and  gone  forever  ? 
Here  were  but  faces  strange,  hideous,  fierce  and  dusky — 
WTas  he  but  one  of  these — child  of  the  lonely  desert, 
Evermore  doomed  to  change,  evermore  doomed  to  wander? 


26  Dolores. 

Still  kept  they  on  and  on,  evermore  north  and  eastward, 
Over  the  desert  sands,  over  the  alkali  mirrors, 
Scaling  the  mountain  chains,  threading  the  savage  passes; 
On  past  the  Wahsatch  range,  looming  'mid  desolation ; 
\Yhitc  as  a  sheeted  ghost,  bearing  the  snowy  burden 
Piled  by  the  centuries'  wrath  high  on  his  mighty  shoulders. 

Deep  yawned  a  canyon's  jaws,  gloomy  and  black  as  Hades; 
Into  its  depths  they  plunged,  into  that  awful  shadow 

r  the  sun's  bright  smile  gladdening  the  summer  solstice, 
Quickening  earth's  sluggish  veins,  ever  had  kissed  or  lighted; 
Kvcrmorc  toward  the  cast  followed  its  labyrinth  mazes, 
League  after  league,  its  jaws  threatening  to  close  in  meeting 
Till  from  the  sullen  gloom,  sudden  to  light  emerging, 
Broke  on  their  dax/led  sight,  glory  as  of  a  vision. 

Far  to  the  right  and  left,  grandly  the  walls  receded, 
Stretching  their  mighty  lines,  curving  around  unbroken, 
Till  in  the  front  they  met,  closing  the  mighty  circle. 
Ringing  with  mighty  awe,  flashed  the  far  walls  in  splendor, 
Clothed  in  their  snowy  robes,  white  in  their  hush  eternal. 
1 1*  re  like  a  golden-ringed  emerald  in  its  setting, 
Slumbered  a  peaceful  vale,  bright  as  a  fairy's  dreaming; 
Bordered  with  fringe  of  firs,  fragrant  with  breath  of  balsam, 
Waving  their  lances  keen,  dark  in  their  glossy  glory; 
\Yhispcring  groups  of  pine  dotting  the  sylvan  valley, 
Clustering  closely,  stood,  as  of  some  secret  telling; 
Gleaming  like  silver  threads,  rivulets  danced  and  sparkled, 
Kissed  by  the  drooping  flowers,  kissed  by  the  bending  lii 
Babbling  perchance  the  talcs  mystery-locked  for  ages — 
Stories  of  genii  hordes,  stories  of  treasures  hidden, 
Only  their  eyes  had  seen,  deep  in  the  mountain  shadows; 

in  this  sylvan  spot,  known  to  no  human  mortal, 
Save  but  his  savage  friends,  jealously  guarding  the  secret 
Kept  immemorial  locked,  halted  Gonzales'  captors. 
Here  in  the  hidden  vale,  only  at  entrance  guarded, 
Heeding  not  much  his  ways,  or  of  his  going  or  coming, 
Deep  in  the  lonely  lands,  here  set  they  free  their  captive. 


Dolores.  27 

Slowly  the  months  passed  by  in  their  unending  circle; 
Slowly  returning  health  came  with  its  tide  of  vigor, 
Thrilling  his  wasted  frame,  flushing  his  cheeks  with  color. 
Gentle  and  sad  his  mien;  dark-eyed  and  dusky  maidens 
Timidly  sought  his  glance,  tenderly  looked  upon  him ; 
Trustful  they  were  and  kind,  trusting  him  as  a  brother, 
Cherishing  shy,  perchance,  yet  a  more  tender  feeling. 

Dreaming,  forever  dreaming,  wandered  he  through  the  valley — 
Memories  of  the  past  thronging  his  soul  forever — 
Dreams  of  San  Gabriel's  groves,  vineyards  and  fields  low  lying 
Nestled  beneath  the  hills,  kissed  by  the  zephyr's  sighing; 
Dreams  of  the  loved  and  lost ; — was  it,  indeed,  forever  ? 
Wandering,  pondering  thus,  idly  and  aimless*  straying 
On  through  the  hermit  vale  kept  he.  his  way  in  sorrow; 
On  by  the  crystal  stream,  mirroring  sky  and  mountain, 
Flower,  and  cloud,  and  tree,  or  where  the  rock-rent  canyon 
Piercing  the  mountain  walls,  slept  in  its  gloom  of  shadow. 
Was  this  a  dream  as  well — but  a  bright  midnight  vision 
Fading  before  the  dawn,  fleeing  as  flees  the  shadow? 
What  is  this  in  the  sands,  gleaming  with  yellow  lustre 
Vainly  the  crystal  stream  strives  with  its  veil  to  cover  ? 
Like  some  bright  maiden's  charms  partly  revealed,  half-hidden. 
Gold  !  the  all-mystic  charm,  gold  for  the  soul's  perdition  ! 
Gold  for  a  miser's  greed,  gold  for  a  world's  swift  purchase ! 
Gold  for  a  kingly  bribe,  gold  for  an  empire's  ransom  ! 
Glittering,  gleaming,  bright — beckoning,  taunting,  mocking  ! 

What  are  these  rays  of  light  flashing  amid  the  pebbles  ; 
Scintillant,  sparkling,  pure,  bright  as  the  eyes  of  fairies, 
Everywhere  'ncath  the  feet  blazing,  incessant  gleaming; 
Thickly  sown  as  stars  over  the  vault  of  heaven  ? 
Diamonds !  a  treasure  each  priceless,  a  queen  might  envy; 
Gems  for  ten  thousand  crowns — blazing,  unset,  unheeded; 
Flashing  back  ray  to  ray,  flaming,  unseen,  ungathcrcd; 
Fit  for  a  Nourmahal's  glittering,  gem-decked  bridal. 
Paven  with  gold  and  gems,  every  clear,  crystal  streamlet, 


28  Dolores. 

Over  its  gleaming  way,  down  to  the  vale  came  glancing; 
Here  was  great  Nature's  vault,  guarded  by  barriers  mighty; 
Stored  with  a  treasure  vaster  far  than  the  world  had  gathered, 
Since  from  Time's  earliest  dawn,  souls  for  its  blaze  were  bartered 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Turn  we  to  other  scenes ;  back  to  the  lonely  maiden 

Lost  in  the  gloomy  depths  of  savage  and  wild  Tehunga 

Downward  as  if  in  fear,  thundered  the  rushing  torrent; 

Leaping  from  rocky  heights,  plunging  to  danger  headlong; 

Shrieking  as  one  that  flees,  white-lipped  in  awe  and  fearing, 

Swift  from  a  fell  pursuit,  frenzied  with  mortal  terror. 

Skirting  the  torrent's  bed,  downward  in  fear  incessant, 

Flanking  the  rocky  falls,  clinging  to  dizzy  faces; 

Halting  and  baffled  oft,  often  her  steps  retracing; 

Vallcyward,  westward  still,  struggled  the  weary  maiden, 

Till  when  the  night-shades  fell,  hiding  in  utter  darkness 

Danger  and  hope  alike,  torrent,  and  fall  and  canyon, 

Sank  she  beside  a  rock  weary  with  toil,  yet  thankful, 

]>reathing  a  trustful  prayer,  heavenly  aid  imploring; 

I  Tearing  but  sounds  of  night,  zephyrs  around  her  sighing, 

Call  of  the  lonely  owl,  solemn  and  ghostly  hooting; 

Or  of  the  far  away  scream  of  the  prowling  puma, 

Or  the  coyote's  cry,  weird  as  a  spirit's  wailing; 

So  sank  she  to  her  sleep;  trustful,  and  deep,  and  dreamless, 

Till  the  soft  grey-eyed  morn  woke  her,  refreshed  from  slumber. 

So  passed  another  day  wearily,  and  another, 

ISut  when  the  sunset  rays,  flooded  the  west  with  glory, 

Safely  her  feet  emerged,  forth  from  that  fearful  shadow 

Into  the  welcome  plain — the  valley  of  San  Fernando. 

After  a  truant  herd,  thundered  a  bold  vaqucro 

Launching  his  willing  steed  swiftly  as  flics  the  arrow, 

After  the  wayward  band  tossing  their  manes  in  scorning; 

Instant  he  saw  and  knew,  greeting  the  long-lost  maiden, 

Pvcincd  his  impetuous  steed  sudden  in  swift  careering; 

Gallantly  stooping  down,  lifted  her  form  before  him, 


Dolores.  29 

Bearing-  his  precious  charge  tenderly  to  the  Mission, 
Watching  the  peaceful  vale,  olive-crowned  San  Fernando. 
But  when  the  morning  came,  led  by  the  padres  holy, 
Forth  from  its  guarded  gate  issued  a  glad  procession, 
Bearing  their  precious  charge  back  to  her  home  triumphant. 

Joy  in  San  Gabriel's  fold  !     Joy  in  the  holy  precincts  ! 
Joyfully  the  silvery  bells,  called  to  the  sleeping  echoes, 
Telling  to  earth  and  sky,  the  story  of  tender  gladness — 
"Joy  for  the  gentle  lamb,  lost  and  again  recovered, 
She  that  was  lost  is  found,  safe  to  the  blest  fold  gathered ! " 

Yet  mingled  grief's  alloy  with  their  fond,  sweet  rejoicing; 
Where  was  her  lover  true,  where  was  the  brave  Gonzales  ? 
Many  had  seen  him  go,  none  knew  of  his  returning. 
Saddles,  and  boots  and  spurs,  quickly  a  party  mounted, 
Followed  his  fearful  trail  up  'mid  the  slippery  bowlders; 
Through    the    dark   chaparral,    through   the  deep,  rock-ribbed 

canyons, 

Under  the  splintered  peaks,  over  the  lofty  ranges; 
Followed  him  down  and  on,  followed  far  to  the  eastward, 
Till  'mid  the  drifting  dunes,  vanished  his  traces  wholly, 
Faded  his  footsteps  faint,  lost  in  the  wastes  of  danger 
Where  spread  the  desert  sands  over  the  dim  Mohave. 
So  came  they  back  at  last,  weary  and  heavy-hearted — 
Bringing  their  tale  of  woe,  "  He  that  we  sought  has  perished." 
Tremble  of  sighs  on  lips;  quiver  of  drooping  lashes.  , 
Weary  and  long  the  days  passed  at  the  prayerful  Mission; 
Tearful  and  sleepless  nights;  aching  of  hearts  despairing; 
Sadness  and  gloom  o'er  all  weighed  like  a  nightmare  brooding, 
As  with  the  maiden's  smiles,  sunshine  and  light  departed. 
Slow  passed  the  Spring's  sweet  days,  drearily  at  the  Mission; 
Slow  dragged  the  heavy  months;  wearily  sighed  Dolores; 
What  though  gay  suitors  thronged  eager  to  win  her  favor  ? 
He  that  her  fond  heart  craved,  came  not  to  chase  her  sorrow; 
Smiled  she  again  on  none;  only  she  wept  and  waited, 
Ever  when  day  was  done,  moaning  like  dove  unmatcd; 


30  Dolores. 

So  passed  the  Summer  days,  so  bloomed  the  flowers  and  faded. 
Autumn  with  mystic  haze,  veiling  with  trembling  shimmer 
Mountain  and  vale  and  plain,  came  with  her  crowning  glory, 
Gorgeous  as  fairy  dream,  haunting  like  youth's  bright  halo — 
Came  with  her  vines  low-bending  under  their  purple  burdens, 

;ing  in  generous  arms  plenty  and  sweet  fruition- 
Lingered  as  loth  to  go,  passed  as  a  gorgeous  vision. 

Only  the  one  her  heart  longed  for  incessant,  came  not ; 
Came  not  when  gentle  clouds  over  the  earth's  parched  bosom, 

ling  in  sadness  low,  wept  their  soft  tears  of  pity; 
Not  when  o'er  all  the  land,  myriad  germs  unnumbered 
Sprang  into  quickened  life,  thrusting  their  tiny  lances 
Thick  through  the  drouth-.^ -..ivd  mould,  carpeting  all  the  land 
scape 

Softly  with  fabric  fine,  fresh  from  the  loom  of  Nature — 
c'arpct  of  cloth-of-gold,  flame-hearted,  golden  poppies 
Hiding  the  sloping  lawns,  oceanward,  westward  stretching; 
Then  came  the  long  bright  days,  buoyant  with  hopeful  promise, 
Strong  in  their  life-throbs  swift,  sweet  in  their  thrill  of  gladness; 
Spring,  with  her  wealth  of  flowers,  bowers  and  birds,  and  sun 
shine. 

e  in  all  happy  hearts — all  save  the  lonely  maiden's — 
Kver  when  fell  the  eve's  deepening,  lengthening  shadows 
Over  the  peaceful  vale,  over  the  sleeping  meadows, 
Wandering  forth,  she  strayed  in  the  dear  paths  familiar, 

ining  the  old  sweet  dreams,  over  again  and  o\ 
Living  again  the  past,  humming  some  sweet,  sad  ditty. 
"  I  Ie  will  not  come,"  she  said,  "  never  again,  O  nc 
When  the  soft  shades  at  eve,  tremble  and  dance  and  quiver; 
i  more  when  the  dews,  under  the  stars  arc  falling  ; 

i  rmore  when  the  dove  unto  her  mate  is  calling; 
Not  when  the  sunset  sleeps,  rocked  on  the  swaying  billow; 
Not  when  the  moonbeam  creeps,  soft  through  the  sighing  willow; 
Parted,  we  meet  no  more,  under  the  starlight  quiver; 
Severed,  to  meet  on  earth,  never  again,  O,  never  ! " 


Dolores.  3  I 

Even  while  on  her  lips  trembled  the  sweet,  sad  cadence, 

Thrilling  the  listening  air,  forth  sprang  her  long-lost  lover; 

Clasping  her  swooning  form  close  to  his  heart  swift  throbbing; 

Holding  her  long  and  fast,  tenderly,  unresisting, 

Leaning  upon  his  breast  like  some  fair  lily  drooping, 

Till  from  her  sense  obscured  back  rolled  the  mists  enthralling, 

As  from  the  landscape's  face,  lifts  the  dark  mist  at  sunrise. 

Mutual  story  told ;  mutual  explanation. 

Told  she,  her  thrilling  tale;  told  she  about  her  capture; 

Miracle-like  escape  from  the  dark  villain  Lopez; 

Wandering  and  return  safe  to  the  holy  Mission. 

He,  of  his  fruitless  search,  through  the  lone,  savage  mountains, 

Over  the  desert  sands,  pitiless,  hot  and  glaring, 

Maddened  by  heat  and  thirst,  lost  'mid  the  wastes  of  danger, 

Found  by  a  wandering  band,  back  to  their  haunts  returning; 

Of  the  deep  hidden  vale — store-house  of  Nature's  treasure. 

Seen  by  no  mortal  eyes;  never  by  footsteps  trodden, 

Save  but  his  own,  and  those  of  his  late  savage  captors ; 

Told  of  its  treasures  vast,  never  might  be  computed ; 

Never  Aladdin's  cave  glowed  with  such  gorgeous  splendor; 

Everywhere  gleam  of  gold,  glitter  and  blaze  of  diamonds ! 

What  was  this  gleaming  gold,  what  were  these  countless  riches, 

Unto  the  lonely  heart  longing  for  other  treasure  ? — 

Dross  as  the  rayless  lead  is  to  the  pearl's  soft  lustre ; 

Mockery  of  the  heart,  weary  with  long,  long  waiting. 

What  were  these  blazing  gems,  flashing  and  irridescent  ? — 

Only  a  mirage  gleam-  mocking  the  heart's  fierce  longing. 

Longing — escape — return — these  were  the  day-dreams  haunting 

Ever  his  longing  soul,  ever  his  weary  vigil ; 

Till  through  the  shades,  one  night,  fleeing,  the  lonely  captive 

Baffled  the  sentries'  guard,  keeping  the  entrance  narrow; 

Treaded  the  gloomy  gorge,  gaining  the  awful  desert. 

Day  after  day  he  kept  wearily  onward,  westward ; 

On  through  the  savage  lands,  week  after  week  he  wandered, 

Still  by  the  star  of  Hope,  evermore  cheered  and  guided ; 

On  through  the  desert's  glare,  on  through  the  blasted  ranges, 


3-  Dolores. 

Till  from  a  lofty  crest,  looking  afar  to  westward 
'Ncath  the  dim  trembling  haze,  shimmered  the  slumbering  oceat 
Downward,  and  down,  and  down  !  what  is  it  greets  his  vision  ? 
Glint  of  the  sun-kissed  vale,  glimpses  of  grove  and  vineyard; 

cs  nestled  low  beneath  shelter  of  oaks  umbrageous, 
And  like  a  star's  soft  light,  beckoned  the  holy  Mission. 

Listen  !  what  music  sweet  floats  on  the  hushed  air's  stillness? 
I        t  comes  the  sound  of  bells  up  from  the  shadowy  Mission, 
Telling  of  prayer  and  faith;  calling  to  evening  vesper; 
Bidding  the  faithful,  come  haste  to  the  altar  holy; 
Then  a  sad,  plaintive  song,  as  of  a  dove  complaining, 
Torn  from  her  loving  mate  in  the  s \vcct  Springtimes  promise, 
Floats  on  the  twilight  hush  and — the  now  blushing  maiden  . 
Knows  all  the  rest  and  weeps,  happy  and  blest  and  thankful. 

So  'mid  the  night's  soft  hush,  loitered  they  slowly  homeward, 
Under  the  quiet  stars,  blazing  with  tender  lustre, 
'Ncath  the  soft  silvery  moon  smiling  as  in  approval ; 
Dew-drops  on  leaf  and  flower,  sparkled  and  Hashed  like  diamonds, 
Pendulous  from  the  ears  of  some  rapt,  dreamy  beauty; 

:y\\  here  peace  and  love,  tenderness,  hush  and  quiet, 
Everywhere  blest  repose,  infinite  rest  and  glory. 
Soft  came  the  trembling  morn,  sweet  in  its  dewy  freshness, 
Joyfully  pealed  the  bells  telling  their  talc  of  gladness — 
Bidding  the  people  come,  come  to  the  grand  fiesta; 
1  la  ted  the  young  and  old,  swift  at  the  silvery  summons; 

ncd  to  welcome  home,  him  they  had  mourned  as  buried — 
As  a  lost  sheep  long  missed,  back  to  the  fold  returning; 
Revel  and  feast  and  prayer,  feast  and  prayer  and  revel! 
Three  thankful  days  and  nights,  kept  they  the  grand  fiesta, 
Heedless  of  toil  or  care,  and  at  the  close,  the  padre 
Softly  proclaimed  the  bans  of  the  long-faithful  lovers, 
Blessing  their  holy  love,  blest  and  dismissed  the  people; 
All  to  their  happy  homes,  quickly  in  peace  returning. 
Only  a  flowery  month,  rose-tinted,  intervening, 

i  he  two  trustful  hearts,  longing,  should  be  united 
Sale  in  their  holy  love,  sealed  by  the  Church's  bk-ssing. 


Dolores.  33 

CHAPTER  V. 

Morn  in  the  beautiful  vale;  glitter  and  glow  of  dew-drop; 
Flashing  of  wings  'mid  bowers;  mocking-bird's  trill  ecstatic; 
Fragrance  of  orange  blooms  borne  on  the  loitering  zephyr; 
Herds  spreading  far  and  wide,  cropping  the  dewy  grasses, 
Clouding  afar  the  plains,  sleek  in  their  wanton  fatness; 
Gleaming  of  silvery  founts;  mountains  in  sky  uplifting, 
Clothed  in  their  strength  eternal,  rapt  in  their  purple  glory — 
Rainbow  of  hope  o'er  all ;  friends  round  the  altar  gathered — 
Parents, and  priest, and  guests — why  linger  bride  and  bridegroom  ? 

Forth  at  the  early  dawn  joyously  they  had  ridden, 

Mounted  on  glossy  steeds,  out  o'er  the  flowery  vista, 

Fleet  as  the  soft  west-wind  over  the  mesa  speeding, 

Little  of  time  or  space,  little  of  danger  heeding, 

On  toward  the  mountain-walled  valley  of  San  Fernando ; 

Through  the  low-nestling  hills,  through  the  thick-serried  cactus 

Marshaled  like  battle-ranks  bristling  with  pikes  repcllant,, 

When  from  their  covert  dark,  hurtled  a  hail  of  arrows, 

Thick  as  the  icy  spheres  vengefully  by  Boreas 

Hurled  in  his  spiteful  wrath,  down  on  the  smiling  landscape; 

Up  rose  a  hundred  hideous,  painted  and  savage  demons, 

Piercing  with  many  a  shaft  deeply  the  helpless  lover, 

Then  like  the  wind  away,  taking  the  maiden  captive. 

Hour  after  hour  went  by,  slow,  at  the  waiting  Mission; 

Wondering,  watched  the  throng  waiting  the  lovers'  coming; 

Solemnly  to  and  fro,  paced  the  grave,  patient  padre ; 

Why  lingered  thus  the  pair— naught  could  have  surely  happened  ? 

Jangle  and  clang  of  spurs,  steed  flecked  with  foam  and  quivering; 
Rider  afaint  and  pale;  dappled  with  blood  his  clothing; 
Piercing  himself  and  steed,  the  shaft  of  many  an  arrow, 
Shot  from  the  vengeful  bows  of  the  treacherous  red  marauders, 
Hither  on  spoil  intent,  coming  from  out  the  desert. 
Quickly  he  told  the  tale — robbery,  lust  and  murder — 
Told  of  a  heathen  horde  raiding  the  lonely  ranches, 
Wreaking  their  savage  hate  on  the  valley  of  San  Fernando. 


34  Dolores. 

Instant  a  dozen  men  sprang  to  their  saddles,  quickly 
Dashed  o'er  the  flowery  plain,  came  to  the  scene  of  outrage  ; 
Found  but  Gonzalcs  there,  senseless  and  almost  lifeless  ; 
Never  a  trace  of  her,  torn  from  her  wounded  lover; 
Mi-amvhilc  her  captors  passed  swiftly  away  like  a  whirlwind, 
Bearing  away  their  spoil-'-booty  from  raided  ranchos, 
Through  the  dark,  frowning  pass,  over  the  tall  Sierras, 
O'er  the  dread  danger-trails,  dared  not  a  soul  to  follow; 
Bearing  from  hope  and  love,  swift,  the  despairing  maiden, 
Lashed  to  a  frantic  steed,  helpless,  bound,  and  a  captive. 

Out  thro'  the  frowning  pass,  out  through  the  black-lipped  canyon, 

Over  the  wastes  of  sand,  glowing  with  furnace  fierceness — 

Ghost-like,  watching  the  way,  the  hosts  of  the  spiny  cactus. 

Wearily  pressing  still  onward  and  eastward  ever, 

Over  the  alkali  beds,  level  and  smooth  as  mirrors, 

Flashing  with  gleam  afar,  white  with  their  efflorescence  ; 

Skirting  the  lifeless  lakes,  poisonous,  deadly,  bitter, 

Where  the  gray  ashen  wastes,  dimly  gleaming  and  ghastly, 

Over  dead  Nature's  face  spread  like  a  pall  forever; 

Holding  their  homeward  way  over  precipitous  ranges, 

Black  with  volcanic  wrath,  strewn  with  the  wreck  of  upheaval, 

Belched  from  earth's  bowels  deep,  in  tremulous  throes  of  Hie  ages; 

So  after  days  of  thirst,  weary  and  worn  with  travel. 

Came  they  at  last  to  halt — their  lair  by  a  rushing  river, 

Shaded  by  cottonwood  trees,  fringed  by  the  drooping  willow. 

While  as  in  fear,  hard  by  whispered  the  trembling  aspen; 

Here  on  the  farther  side,  deep  in  the  wild  desolation, 

Deep  in  the  arid  lands,  savage  and  wild,  forbidding, 

Guarded  by  deserts  vast,  mountains  and  mighty  canyons, 

Never  a  foe  might  dare,  rose  the  rude  circle  of  lodges; 

Here  was  their  journey's  end — the  heart  of  the  Navajo  nation. 

Night,  and  a  captive  lone,  bound  to  a  sighing  aspen ; 
Far  from  San  Gabriel's  vale,  soft  in  its  beauty  sleeping; 
Far  from  its  holy  spell,  tenderness,  love  and  pity; 
Here  were  but  death  and  hate,  savagcncss  all  pervading. 


35 


Dolores 

Only  the  stars  looked  down,  merciful  as  imploring-, 

Pleadingly,  tremblingly,  sad,  far  through  the  measureless  spaces, 

Camp-fires  casting  their  gleam,  lighting  the  shadows  weirdly; 

Warriors  savage  and  wild,  gathered  around  in  council, 

Parting  of  captured  spoils — booty  of  goods  and  horses; 

Share  and  division  fair,  equal,  exact,  impartial, 

Till  not  a  thing  remained — naught  but  the  captive  maiden ; 

Then  broke  the  storm's  pent  wrath,  outbursts  of  demon  passions, 

Tumult  as  waves  in  strife,  voices  in  high  contention. 

Hellish  and  lustful  looks,  gestures  jeering  and  threatening 

Bade  her  for  worst  prepare ;  outrage  or  death  to-morrow. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

One  by  one,  weary  at  last,  slumbered  and  slept  her  captors; 
Flickered  the  fitful  camp-fire,  faded  the  dying  embers; 
Stillness  and  hush  profound,  save  the  low  fretful  murmur, 
Like  some  pent  soul's  complaining  of  the  dark  river  chafing; 
Or  the  long  boding  wail  of  the  prowling,  unseen  coyote. 
Slow  passed  the  hours  away;  morn  with  her  flush  of  crimson 
Tinted  the  trembling  East  faint  with  a  tender  glory. 
Softly  a  shadow  stole  forth  from  the  lodges'  circle 
Lightly  amid  the  sleepers,  shadow-like,  noiseless  glided, 
Then  a  dark  maiden  tall,  stood  by  the  side  of  tile  captive; 
Placing  her  finger-tips  on  her  dusky  lips  in  warning, 
Severed  the  cruel  bonds  that  held  her  in  durance  chafing, 
Motioned  toward  the  stream,  murmured  a  word  of  parting, 
Shrank  in  the  trembling  gloom  and  vanished  away  like  a  phantom. 

Quick  to  the  river's  brink  noiselessly  hurried  the  captive; 
There  a  frail,  light  canoe  quivered  and  danced  on  the  current, 
Seeming  to  chafe  as  a  steed,  curbed  for  the  race  impatient; 
In  it  was  store  of  food,  weapons  of  war  and  hunting, 
Blankets  of  costly  worth, — gorgeous  and  bright  scrapes 
Woven  with  dexterous  skill  by  fingers  of  Navajo  maidens; 
But  a  brief  moment  more,  downward  to  unknown  dangers 
Boatman  and  boat  were  swept  by  the  turbulent  Colorado, 


36  ,   Dolores. 

Yet  not  a  moment  too  soon;  shrill  on  the  bank  rose  the  war-whoops, 
Hurtled  the  arrowy  hail,  cleaving  the  water  around  her — 
Then  of  a  sudden,  rush  and  roar,  as  of  seas  contending; 
Cliff  leaning  o'er  to  cliff,  raging  of  floods  imprisoned, 
:  -r  and  death  behind,  while  the  ravenous  deep-jawed  canyon 

Yawned  like  the  gates  of  hell,  thrcatenin;;  and  fore  her. 

On  through  the  seething  foam  onward  with  arrowy  swiftn 
Guiding  her  lightning  course  with  watchful  swift-plying  paddle, 
Grazing  the  jagged  rocks,  whirling  in  dizzy  whirlpools, 
Swept  her  frail,  fragile  bark,  tossed  about  like  a  feather, 
Guarded  as  by  a  charm  from  imminent,  swift  destruction. 

Hour  on  hour  passed  by,  league  after  league  flew  madly; 
Still  the  black  sullen  jaws,  evermore  grim  and  threatening 
Never  a  line  relaxed,  seemed  to  compress  more  tightly;     . 
But  as  the  night  shades  fell,  sudden  from  gloom  cmcr  .' 
Widenecl  the  gloomy  rift,  slept  the  wild,  maddened  wal 
Calm  as  a  tired  pulse  after  the  fitful  fever. 
Over  the  trembling  flood,  cottonwoods  waved  and  quivered, 
Whispered  and  murmured  low,  as  of  some  secret  fearful; 
Telling  perchance  their  talc  of  hopeless  ages  imprisoned — 
Buried  forevermorc  in  that  adamant  heart  of  marble. 

Loneliness !  not  a  sound  of  life  woke  the  awful  stillness; 
Never  a  robin's  chirp,  never  a  squirrel's  chatter, 
Never  an  insect's  hum  faint,  or  cicada's  quaver — 
Here  in  her  chamber  dwelt  Solitude,  deep  and  utter! 

c  was  no  danger  of  beast,  reptile,  or  savage  human ; 
Only  a  loneliness  vast,  voiceless,  void,  eternal. 
So  lay  she  'ncath  the  trees,  pondered,  and  thought  of  the  morrow, 
So  wearied,  faint,  she  dreamed,  slumbered  and  slept  till  morning. 
Walls  without  slope  or  break,  perpendicular,  springing 
Skyward  through  half  a  league,  dizzied  the  vision  gazing; 
Walls  that  the  eagle's  wing  only  might  scale  defiant; 
Battlements   chafing   the    dome   of   heaven's    blue    arch    faint- 
gleaming; 


Dolores. 


37 


Only  a  single  way  out  of  that  awful  prison; 

Only  a  hope  forlorn  glimmered  and  sank  before  her; 

On  through  the  jaws  of  death,  through  that  dread  tomb  of  marble; 

Trust  in  her  frail  canoe,  trust  in  a  Saviour's  mercy; 

Prayer  to  the  throne  of  Grace,  prayer  to  the  Virgin  Mary, 

Still  her  all-helpful  love,  still  her  blest  aid  invoking — 

Then  with  a  strength  renewed,  faith  in  her  holy  pleading, 

Launched  she  her  bark  once  more,  drifting  to  unknown  dangers. 

Southward  the  torrent  plunged,  white-lipped  in  terror,  fleeing 
Down  through  the  awful  gorge,  shrieking  like  ghost  despairing. 
Ever  the  marble  walls,  dizzy  with  dread  down-looking, 
Seemed  as  in  trembling  swoon,  ready  to  fall  upon  her, 
Ever  the  raging  floods,  mad  with  their  cramped  confining, 
Torn  by  the  ragged  rocks,  threatened  of  swift  destruction. 
All  day  long,  till  the  sunset  lit  the  far  heights  with  glory, 
Death  like  a  bloodhound  fell,  tracked  her  with  haunting  terror; 
Then  at  last  issuing  forth,  pale  from  that  tomb  of  marble, 
Out  of  the  jaws  of  death,  weary,  and  faint,  and  thankful, 
Softly  she  drifted  free,  on  a  peaceful  and  placid  current; 
A  hundred  terrible  leagues  between  herself  and  her  captors. 

CHAPTER   VII. 

Far  spread  the  savage  lands,  desolate  and  forbidding, 
Glaring  with  fevered  gaze,  fierce  with  a  thirst  eternal, 
Scared  in  the  ages  past  by  a  passionate  wrath  almighty. 
Only  the  cactus  dared,  raising  his  palms  defiant, 
Guarding  his  succulent  fruit,  mail-clad  with  spikes  rcpellant; 
Only  the  scorpion  braved,  with  fiery  dart  envenomed, 
Kept  with  the  rattlesnake  watch  over  that  deathly  loneness. 
So  on  the  widened  flood,  rapid,  and  safe,  and  peaceful, 
Drifted  the  maiden  lone,  day  after  day,  till  a  vision 
Gladdened  her  longing  eyes;  floated  the  Spanish  standard 
Lazily  in  the  breeze,  over  a  near  encampment; 
Saddled  and  bridled  steeds;  cattle,  and  rude  carretas 
Tired  with  rawhide  bands,  laden  with  household  treasures; 


38  Dolores. 

Soldiers  and  bearded  men,  weary  women  and  children, 
Bearing  the  sacred  Cross,  led  by  their  warrior  padre, 
Bound  for  the  heathen  lands — emigrants  from  Sonora. 
Here  crossed  the  lonely  trail,  piercing  the  heart  of  the  desert 
Wastes,  whence  the  seas  had  fled,  a^cs  long  past,  in  terror. 

Welcome  and  aid  they  gave,  then  on  their  westward  journey, 
Wearily  o'er  the  sands,  glaring  with  furnace-fervor, 
Kept  they  their  martyr-way,  till  on  the  faint  horizon, 
Seen  through  the  shimmering  haze,  vaguely,  like  looming  giants 
Guarding  Gorgonio's  gate,  rose  the  twin  sentries,  grimly 
Gazing  through  space  afar,  hoary  with  watch  of  ages, 
San  Bernardino  tall,  and  dream-nodding  San  Jacinto; 
Looking  down  upon  death — death  without  resurrection, 
Over  the  hopeless  wastes,  dim  to  the  eastward  spreading; 
Looking  down  upon  life,  life  blooming,  bright,  eternal — 
Mesas  and  vales,  unrolled,  pastures  and  flowery  vistas, 
Westward  stretching  afar  to  the  strand  of  the  limitless  ocean. 
Fanned  by  the  spicy  breath  of  the  queenly  Orient  islands, 
Blown  over  tropic  seas,  from  the  uttermost  cast's  dim  chambers. 

So  through  the  pleasant  lands,  over  soft  flowery  carpets, 

Wandered  their  weary  feet,  till  'ncath  her  oaks,  far-spreading, 

Saw  they  San  Gabriel's  vale,  peaceful,  in  hush  reclining 

Soft  at  the  restful  feet  of  the  Sierra  Mad  re, 

Gazing  as  mother  rapt,  down  on  her  slumbering  infant — 

Heard  the  sweet  Mission  bells  calling  to  holy  vesper, 

Bidding  surcease  from  care,  hearts  chasing  earth's  vain  shadows — 

Bidding  them  heavenward  turn,  unto  the  Rock  Eternal. 

Joy  in  the  fold  once  more,  yet  mingled  deep  with  sadness; 
Joy  for  the  lost,  returned;  sorrow  o'er  hope  deputing — 
Over  a  soul  long  held  faint  in  life's  trembling  balance — 
Waiting  as  loth  to  go;  held  by  some  mystic  thralling — 
Over  a  spirit  loved,  stricken  to  death  with  arrows, 
Sudden,  ere  noon  of  life — knightly  and  true  Gonzalcs. 


Dolores,  39 

Parted  and  sundered  oft,  yet  once  again  united, 

Long  in  love's  tender  clasp,  lingered  their  hands  fate-severed, 

Clung  the  fond  loving  lips,  laden  with' garnered  kisses; 

Through  the  hushed  awe  of  eve,  into  the  deepening  twilight, 

Through  the  dim  midnight  watch,  till  the  soft  blush  of  morning 

Tinted  the  mountain* chain  guarding  the  slumbering  valley, 

Then  'mid  the  tender  glow,  soft  came  love's  dream-rapt  ending; 

Faintly  life's  ebbing  tide  throbbed  in  his  veins,  retreating 

Back  to  the  silent  sea  veiled  in  death's  mystic  shadow; 

Ebbing  and  ebbing  still,  fainter,  and  faint,  and  fainter, 

Drifting  and  drifting  out,  till  the  last  feeble  flutter 

Ceased,  and  a  holy  calm  slept  on  his  face  forever. 

Thenceforth  a  tender  hush,  as  when  the  sunset,  dying, 

Halos  the  hill-tops  soft,  chastened  her  gentle  spirit; 

Evermore  in  her  eyes  lingered  a  quiet  shadow, 

Like  the  soft  fleecy  clouds  in  the  clear  stream  reflected ; 

Ever  to  charity's  needs  all  her  sweet  life  devoting, 

Watching  beside  the  sick,  helping  the  poor  and  needy, 

With  her  blest  words  of  hope  cheering  the  sore  afflicted; 

Placid  foreverrnore,  gentle  and  uncomplaining, 

Drooping  and  drooping  still,  fading  and  fading  ever, 

Like  the  sweet  fragrant  rose,  after  the  short,  bright  summer; 

And  when  again  came  Spring  strewing  her  flowery  garlands 

Over  the  valley  soft,  over  the  hills  and  mesas, 

Passed  she  from  earthly  gloom,  into  the  light  unending — 

Passed  like  a  dream  away,  into  the  day  Eternal. 

Change  of  the  changeful  years  !  change  on  all  things  is  written ! 
Mould  of  the  misty  past,  dust  of  a  century  gathered, 
Clings  to  the  crumbling  walls,  'round  the  quaint  altar  hoary. 
Here  let  us  linger  not  where  the  sad  memories  darkle — 
Onward  'mid  fragrant  bowers,  groves  ever  green  and  glossy, 
Upward  o'er  sunny  slopes  bathed  in  a  purple  glory, 
Wander  we  to  the  feet  of  the  grand  Mother  Mountains; 
Here  sit  we  down  and  gaze  on  a  glorified  panorama, 
Such  as  hath  earth  not  elsewhere  vouchsafed  to  human  vision, 
Here  let  us  gaze  entranced ;  here  let  us  pause  and  listen. 


40  Day. 

Here,  far  beneath  us,  lie  groves  might  the  fairies  envy, 
Called  into  being  swift  as  by  enchanter's  magic; 
Homesteads  nestling  low,  'mid  their  green  and  gold  half  hidden, 
Smiling  from  out  their  wreaths  of  evergreens  bright  and  fadeless, 
Flower-crowned  all  the  years,  fragrant  with  breath  of  roses, 
Everywhere,  right  and  left,  spreading  beyond  the  vision; 
Songs  of  the  happy  birds;  songs  of  the  happy  children; 
Lullaby s  low  and  sweet,  chanted  by  happy  mothers 
Lulling  their  weary  babes,  soft,  on  their  gentle  bosoms; 
Labor's  faint  busy  hum,  drifting  up  from  the  vineyards; 
These  are  the  sights  and  sounds  ever  the  soul  entrancing — 
This  is  the  spot  of  all  earth's  fondest  dreams  of  Eden, 
by  the  fairies  loved,  still  by  the  fairies  haunted. 

Other  fond  lovers  sigh,  where  sighed  the  faithful  lovers, 
Whisper  their  talcs  of  love,  where  the  sweet  talcs  were  whispered 
By  the  fond  lips  long  cold,  mouldering  in  dust  and  ashes; 
Strangers,  "and  stranger  feet  wander  where  once  they  wandered; 
'Round  their  forgotten  graves,  surges  the  human  eddy; 
Rushes  the  tide  of  life  swift  o'er  the  iron  highway; 
Still  o'er  the  scenes  they  loved  lingers  a  dreamy  glamour; 
And  the  tried,  trustful  hearts,  faithful  through  joy  and  sorrow, 
Side  by  side  rest  in  peace;  slumber,  and  know  no  waking. 


DAY. 

Through  the  hushed  air,  a  thousand  tender  shivers, 
All  tremulous  with  expectation  play; 

Lo  !  how  the  curtain  of  the  faint  east  quivers 
Before  the  trembling  fingers  of  the  day. 

The  crimson  face  of  wakened  nature  flushes, 

Released  from  Night's  embracing,  viewless  fears. 

And  like  a  risen  bride  suffused  with  blushes, 
The  rosy  Day,  in  glory  robed,  appears. 


Hcsperia.  41 


HESPERIA. 


[A  WINTER-DAY   IDYL  OF  LOS  ANGELES  VALLEY.] 


In  restful,  tender,  rapt  repose, 

Sweet  Nature,  softly  dreaming,  lies; 
Afar,  the  slumbering  Ocean  glows, 
Above,  the  snowy  heights  disclose 

Their  glittering  banners  in  the  skies. 
Soft  at  their  everlasting  feet, 
In  green  and  gold  with  incense  sweet, 

Queen  of  the  bright  Hesperian  lands; 
In  royal  splendor  lovelier  far 
Than  man's  vain  glittering  pageants  are, 

The  gracious  Orange  proudly  stands. 

How  grandly  lift  the  walls  of  gray 

To  guard  the  dreamy,  sighing  Vale ! 
On  shadowy  pinions,  far  away, 
The  vulture  circles  o'er  his  prey, 

Where  clings  the  dizzy  mountain  trail. 
Hew  soft  the  purple  shadows  sleep 
On  every  cloud-kissed  solemn  steep  ! 

Sweet  fairy  Vale !     O,  not  more  dear 
To  tender  thought  and  lover's  dream, 
To  muse's  song  and  poet's  theme, 

The  dreamy  vale  of  sweet  Cachmerc  ! 

Thy  gaze  o'crswceps  the  western  wave, 

Where  white  wings  cleave  their  trackless  way; 
And  softly  come  thy  feet  to  lave, 

The  crystal  tides  from  far  Cathay. 
O,  scarce  might  Adam's  soul  regret, 

Had  here  his  feet  a  refuge  found  ! 
.And  here  might  sighing  Eve  forget, 

Again  with  silken  fetters  bound. 


42  Reveries  at  Ere. 


REVERIES  AT  EVE. 


Once  more  on  youth's  fond  scenes,  I  dream,  I  soar  on  fancy's  wing, 
And  hear  as  in  the  days  gone  by,  the  clear,  sweet  voices  ring; 
beside  the  old,  old  hearth,  and  hear  the  crickets  sing. 

A  picture  bright  of  vanished  years  dawns  on  my  yearning  sight; 
A  vision  of  the  past  appears;  a  fireside  warm  and  bright; 
A  happy  circle  gathered  round  upon  a  winter's  night 

The  merry  slcighride-song  we  sang,  floats  back  like  mystic  rune; 
I  hear  the  chime  of  voices  ring  in  silvery  sweet  attune; 
The  dreamy  jangle  of  the  bells,  beneath  the  midnight  moon. 

I  sit  within  the  furnace  glow  in  March's  thaw  and  damp, 

And  hear  the  tread  of  youthful  feet  that  come  with  eager  tramp, 

To  take  the  stores  of  nectar  sweet  within  the  maple  camp. 

I  sec  the  buds  from  thralldom  burst,  as  in  the  smile  of  God, 
And  modest  daisies  lift  their  eyes  above  the  emerald  sod, 
And  in  the  balmy  breath  of  Spring,  the  dreamy  bluebells  nod. 

I  see  the  waving  meadows  toss  like  billows  on  the  seas, 
When  playful  zephyrs  sweep  across;  I  hear  the  song  of  bees 
Float  dreamily  above  the  moss,  beneath  the  linden  trees. 

i  insect  songs!  I  hear  them  all,  in  wood,  on  plain  and  hill, 
And  when  the  night  shades  softly  fall,  and  all  around  is  still, 
Like  some  lost  spirit's,  comes  the  call  of  lonely  whip-poor-will. 

The  drowsy  tinkle  of  the  bells  comes  through  the  evening  gloam, 
Of  tardy  cows  from  meadow  sweet  within  a  western  home ; 
O,music  sweet,  ere  wayward  feet  have  learned  afar  to  roam! 

I  see  amid  the  thick'ning  gloom  the  firefly's  fitful  gleam, 

And  feel  the  solemn  hush  that  falls  o'er  field  and  wood  and  stream; 

I  hear  the  katydid's  weird  call — is  it  a  fading  dream  ? 


Suttees  Fort.  43 

I  see  the  fields  of  golden  grain,  beneath  the  shimmering  blaze, 
And  hear  the  reaper's  glad  refrain  of  long,  sweet  harvest  days, 
Faint  floating  far  o'er  hill  and  plain,  a  hymn  of  thankful  praise. 

I  hear  the  pheasant's  drum  afar;  the  whistling  of  the  quail; 
I  see  the  withered  leaves  drift  by  upon  the  autumn  gale, 
And  softly  trembling  over  all,  the  Indian-summer's  veil. 

All  sudden  as  the  lightning's  leap,  the  visions  bright  forsake, 
As  imaged  forms,  when  clouds  o'crswecp  the  mirror  of  the  lake ; 
The  bugle  of  the  Present  calls — I  startle  and  awake. 

O,  sweet  delirious  dreams  of  youth  !  O,  days  forever  fled  ! 
But  tearfully  I  backward  gaze  with  bowed  and  weary  head; 
I  call,  and  only  hear,  alas  !  the  echoes  of  the  dead. 


SUTTER'S  FORT. 


What  dazzling  dreams  and  memories  'round  thee  throng! 

What  glories  o'er  thy  walls  of  crumbling  clay! 
Dim,  fading  landmark — deathless  theme  of  song! 

Soon  shall  thy  crumbling  bastions  pass  away. 
Thy  doom  is  written.     Ruin  and  decay 

Have  stamped  thee  with  their  melancholy  sign; 
I  see  thee  still,  as  on  that  autumn  day 

We  came  like  pilgrims  to  thy  holy  shrine, 

O, sacred  relic  of  the  days  of  "Forty-Nine!" 

I  look  upon  thy  wasted,  ruined  walls; 

I  look  far  back  upon  the  faded  years; 
And  thy  deep,  mournful  spirit  to  me  calls, 

Like  some  sad  mourner  through  her  blinding  tears. 
The  buried  past,  with  all  its  hopes  and  fears, 

Rises  all  spectral  on  my  soul's  dim  sight, 
Like  the  vague,  beck'ning  phantom  that  appears 

In  the  dim  watches  of  the  lonely  night, 

When  disembodied,  weary  souls  take  flight. 


44  Evanescence. 

How  changed  is  all !     What  ma.cjic  wand  has  swept 
Across  the  scene  ?     How  changed  sweet  Nature's  face  ! 

Time,  with  his  slimy  track,  o'er  all  has  crept; 
The  great  sun,  in  his  ever-tireless  race — 

The  bright  stars,  wheeling  still  through  boundless  space, 
Unchangeable  alone,  still  look  on  thcc ! 

We  live  and  die,  and  leave  no  more  a  trace 
Than  the  swift  vessel  on  the  shimmering  sea, 
O, boundless,  soundless,  waveless,  vague  Eternity! 

Upon  thy  wasted  face  the  grand  Sierra 

Still  gazes  downward  through  the  summer  skies, 

As  when  I  first  beheld,  a  wanderer  weary, 
On  the  low  plain,  thy  outline  dimly  rise. 

And  memory,  smiling  through  her  tears  and  sighs, 
Recalls  the  past — the  camp,  the  whisp'ring  pine, 

The  weary  toil,  the  long-sought,  golden  prize, 

"Wrung  from  the  rock-barred,  giant-guarded  mine — 
O, gilded,  glittering,  glorious  "Forty-Nine!" 


EVANESCENCE. 

Life  is  but  a  changeful  dream, 
Evanescent  as  the  gleam 

Of  the  lightning's  dazzling  flash, 
As  the  bright  Aurora's  beam  ; 

As  the  trembling  zephyrs'  sigh, 
As  the  crimson  flames  that  dye 

With  their  more  than  Tyrian  glow, 
Deep,  the  western  sunset  sky; 

As  the  rainbow's  gorgeous  hue, 
As  the  glitter  of  the  dew, 

Leaving  not  a  trace  behind 
'Neath  the  summer  skies  of  blue; 


A  "Midsummer  Nighfs  Dream"  45 

As  the  fearful,  trembling  fawn 
Listening  at  the  hush  of  dawn 
Startling,  fleeing  in  affright, 
Disappearing,  seen  and  gone. 

Changeful  as  a  midnight  dream, 
As  the  desert's  mirage  gleam, 

As  the  mist  by  morn  dispelled, 
Swallowed  in  the  grand  supreme. 


A  "MIDSUMMER  NIGHT'S  DREAM." 


The  dew  is  on  the  grass, 

And  the  moonbeam  on  the  billows  ; 
And  the  zephyrs  sigh  and  pass, 

And  the  night  winds  shake  the  willows; 
And  the  lilies  sigh  and  nod, 

In  the  murmur  of  the  fountain, 
And  a  glory,  as  of  God, 

Halos  plain,  and  hill,  and  mountain. 

There  is  music,  soft  and  low, 

And  bright  fairy  feet  are  tripping, 
And  the  shadows  come  and  go, 

And  the  elves  are  madly  skipping; 
And  the  cold  and  palsied  earth 

Has  of  Paradise  a  seeming; 
There  is  gladness,  joy  and  mirth, 

While  the  world  is  wrapped  in  dreaming. 

But  the  revels  fade  and  cease 

When  the  morning  softly  wakcth; 
And  the  sylvan  dream  of  peace, 

Like  a  lute-string  sadly  breakcth; 
And  the  planets  blaze  and  burn 

Till  they  fade  before  the  morrow, 
And  the  weary  hearts  return 

To  their  sin,  and  care,  and  sorrow. 


Moonlight  in  Los  A; 


MOONLIGHT   IN    LOS   ANGELES. 

Slow  the  moon,  with  glances  tender, 

Rises  in  the  cast; 
Like  an  empress  in  her  splendor, 

To  some  royal  ft 

Like  some  queen  of  fabled  story, 
Rising  up  in  trembling  glory, 

Like  a  soul  released. 

Now  the  radiant  moonlight  streaming, 

1)  at  lies  each  lofty  hill; 
And  in  murm'rous  rapture  dreaming, 

Sleeps  each  stream  and  rill; 
Now  the  trembling  dew-drops  quiver, 
And  the  zephyrs  sigh  and  shiver, 

Shiver  and  arc  still. 

Now  o'er  bower  and  fount  is  lying 

Silence  like  the  tomb; 
And  each  flower  in  stillness  sighing 

Sheds  its  sweet  perfume ; 
Shadowy  shapes  come  swift  advancing, 
And  bright  fairy  forms  arc  glancing 

Through  the  trembling  gloom. 

O'er  soft  scenes  thy  bright  smiles  hover, 

Silvering  hill  and  glade; 
Lingering,  longing,  where  the  lover 

And  the  gentle  maid, 
'Ncath  thy  rays  of  dazzling  splendor, 
Whisper  secrets,  low  and  tender, 

In  the  olive  shade. 

Myriad  rays  like  diamonds  sparkling, 

Shed  a  radiance  round; 
Where  the  orange  groves  lie  darkling 

In  the  hush  profound; 


Moonlight  in  Los  Angeles.  47 

Soft  and  low  a  spell  is  creeping 
Over  weary  nature,  sleeping, 
In  sweet  slumber  drowned. 

Now  the  hush  of  midnight  stilly, 

Deep  and  deeper  grows ; 
And  the  drooping  listless  lily, 

Sleeps  beside  the  rose; 
Now  the  feathery  pampa,  streaming 
In  the  trembling  moonlight,  gleaming, 

White  and  ghostly  glows. 

Now  the  silvery  palm  is  waving, 

Like  some  magic  wand, 
Shaken  by  bright  ripples  laving 

Ocean's  gleaming  strand ; 
Comes  the  west  wind,  softly  singing, 
Like  some  message  gently  winging, 

From  the  spirit  land. 

Now  the  pallid  rays  are  streaming 

O'er  the  grave-yard  lone ; 
Like  a  ghostly  phantom  gleaming 

Each  sepulchral  stone; 
Now  the  air  grows  crisp  and  crisper, 
And  the  murm'ring  night  winds  whisper, 

Whisper  and  are  gone. 

Now  the  sounds  of  mirth  and  riot, 

Faintly  dying,  cease; 
And  the  restless  hearts,  disquiet, 

Find  from  care  release; 
Resting  still  from  weary  fretting, 
Every  care  and  pain  forgetting 

In  sweet  dreams  of  peace. 


48  Sunrise. — Sierra. 


SUNRISE. 

A  tender  thrill  the  silence  breaks, 

A  little  tremor — she  awakes; 

Through  night's  dark  curtains,  half  in  doubt, 

The  meek -eyed  Morn  peeps  shyly  out, 

As  if  with  modest  gaze  to  spy 

If  bold  intruding  steps  arc  ni 

Then  softly  folds,  with  blushes  warm, 

Her  crimson  drapery  round  her  form, 

And  steps  abroad  with  brow  serene, 

Earth's  peerless,  radiant,  glorious  Queen. 


SIERRA. 


Afar  the  glittering  chain  in  splendor  shines — 

A  dazzling  gleam  where  snow  and  sky  have  met, 
Like  white-lipped,  stern,  determined,  moveless  lines 

In  battle  order  grandly  awful  set. 

The  vaulted  skies  thy  piercing  summits  fret — 
They  chafe  the  dome;  below,  the  moaning  pines 

Forever  sigh,  like  hearts  that  ne'er  forget 
The  haunting  memory,  that  intertwines 
With  the  dead  glories  of  the  golden  mines. 

In  pallid  hush,  like  solemn,  sheeted  ghosts, 

In  still  array  the  snowy  summits  stand; 
In  scornful  pride,  like  conquering,  serried  hosts, 

They  gaze  upon  the  prostrate  pleading  land; 

They  stretch  afar  in  pomp  on  either  hand; 
Down  to  the  plain  they  push  their  scntricd  posts, 

Like  marshalled  columns — still,  determined,  grand- 
Thcy  look  far  down  upon  the  dim,  low  coasts, 
And  mock  proud  man's  vain,  puny,  idle  boasts. 


Sierra. 


49 


Ye  gaze  far  down  o'er  each  soft,  slumbering  scene — 

Down  through  the  trembling,  dreamy,  summer  haze, 
That  veils  the  plain  with  fairy,  silvery  sheen 

Still,  as  in  earliest  time's  dim,  dawning  days. 

When  Sacramento's  vale  is  all  ablaze 
With  spring's  soft  splendor,  high  o'er  all  ye  lean, 

And  like  rapt  dreamers,  musing,  ever  gaze, 
When  summer  clothes  the  plain  in  vernal  green, 
O'er  the  far  valley  of  the  San  Joaquin. 

Thy  crystal  fountains  fall  like  snowy  lace, 

Down  o'er  thy  gleaming  bosom,  pure  and  white; 
Like  beauteous  maiden,  clothed  in  queenly  grace 

And  bridal  veil — a  glorious  dream  of  light ; 

Or,  leaping  downward  from  their  dizzy  height, 
The  foaming  torrents  in  their  giddy  race, 

That  vainly  backward  strive  to  shrink  in  fright, 
One  moment  clinging  to  thy  pallid  face, 
Go  plunging  headlong  into  awful  space. 

Far  piercing  through  the  deep  cerulean  skies 

Thy  summits  gleam,  by  mortal  man  untrod ; 
Unheard  by  thee,  weak  man's  vain  moans  and  sighs — 

\Vhite  and  eternal  as  the  Throne  of  God ! 

The  years  go  by,  and  still  ye  gaze  and  nod, 
Unheeding  of  our  sobs,  and  tears,  and  cries; 

Man's  generations  sleep  beneath  the  sod ; 
His  marble  pomp  in  dust  and  ruin  lies, 
And  cities  proud,  where  seas  have  rolled,  arise. 

O,   awful    height !  to  thee  the  sea  and  land 

Bow  prostrate  at  thy  feet,  prone,  suppliant  slaves; 
To  thy  high  praise  along  Pacific's  strand, 

Swells  the  grand  anthem  of  his  mighty  waves. 

We  dream  and  die,  and  dot  the  earth  with  graves, 
Thick  as  the  desert-drifting  grains  of  sand; 

Lo !  long  as  earth's  wide  shore  the  ocean  laves, 
Up  stand,  as  first  ye  came  from  His  right  hand — 
Awful!  mysterious!  lone!  ctcrnn!  1  grand! 


50  nu  r  rid. 

BURRIEL. 

[WRITTEN  UPON  RECEPTION  OF  NEWS  OF  THE  "  VIRGIXIUS"  MASSACRE.] 

There  are  sounds  of  fearful  warning, 

Whispers  in  the  air. 
Borne  upon  the  wings  of  morning, 

From  the  tropics  fair- 
Borne  by  zephyrs  sad  and  tearful, 

O'er  the  ocean's  swell, 
And  the  night-winds,  low  and  fearful, 

Whisper,  "  Burriel." 

Where  fair  Cuba  flings  her  tresses 

To  the  balmy  breeze, 
Lulled  to  rest  by  soft  caresses 

Of  the  tropic  seas; 
Where  but  erst  her  glories  flaunted 

In  the  flashing  sun, 
Lo !  an  Eden  horror-haunted, 

Red  with  murder  done. 

Like  the  wife  of  murdered  Hector, 

Mad  by  horror  driven, 
Ever  stalks  a  bloody  spectre, 

Crying  still  to  I  leaven; 
Still  it  broods  o'er  hill  and  river 

Like  some  fearful  spell, 
And  the  palms,  with  silent  shiver, 

Whisper,  "  Burriel." 

In  thy  lair  of  Santiago, 

Safe  thy  fiends  among, 
Worse  than  treacherous,  damned  I  ago, 

T.y  the  poet  sung; 
How  shall  words  describe  thcc  fully, 

Foulest  fiend  of  Hell? 
Demon  !  murderer  !  coward  !  bully  ! 

butcher ! — Burriel. 


The  PJiantom  City.  51 

I 

THE  PHANTOM  CITY. 


[A     LEGEND     OF     THE     MOHAVE     DESERT.] 

Where  the  desert's  face  lies  glaring, 
Like  a  corpse  forever  staring, 
And  the  zephyrs  moan,  despairing, 

Wandering  o'er  the  deathly  waste, 
Came  a  padre  meek  and  lowly, 
Hasting  onward,  blindly,  slowly, 
Seeking  with  his  emblem  holy, 

Dying  souls,  with  zealous  haste. 

Far  away  with  quivering  shimmer, 
Sank  the  mountains  dim  and  dimmer, 
Shone  the  sunset's  dying  glimmer, 

With  a  faint,  expiring  glance; 
Came  no  earthquake's  voice  to  mutter, 
Not  a  trembling  zephyr's  flutter, 
Slept  a  silence  deep  and  utter, 

O'er  the  lonely,  dread  expanse. 

On,  o'er  ghastly  wastes  and  dreary, 
Thro'  the  night's  long  watches  weary, 
Journeyed  stout,  old  Padre  Scrra, 

Till  the  ghostly  shadows  fled, 
And  the  morn  came  silent  wending — 
Still  before  him  vague  extending, 
Stretched  the  level  waste  unending, 

Lifeless,  soundless,  boundless  spread. 

'Neath  the  dim  horizon's  circle, 
Where  the  shadows  crouch  and  darkle, 
What  is  that  the  sun's  bright  sparkle 

Gilds  as  with  a  flash  of  fire  ? 
Lo  !  a  city  vast  and  hoary, 
Dazzling  as  some  fairy  story, 
Clothed  as  with  celestial  glory, 

Dome,  and  battlement,  and  spire. 


52  Phantom   City. 

Like  the  swelling  tides  of  ex 
Thrilled  the  padre  with  emotion ; 
In  his  soul  a  grand  commotion, 

Thankfulness  and  glad  surprise 
Stirred  his  holy  spirit  greatly; 
Waving  palm  trees  tall  and  stately, 
Towering  in  their  pride  sedately, 

Rose  beneath  the  desert  skies. 


Was  it  but  a  mocking  seeming? 
Was  the  holy  padre  dreaming  ? 
Rose  a  city  tall  and  gleaming, 

(  >uccnly  'mid  the  desert  lands; 
Temples  proud  and  princely  places, 
Terraced  heights  and  fount-kissed  spaces, 
Like  some  hidden,  blest  oasis 

'Mid  Sahara's  burning  sands. 

Then  of  dangers  naught  rcgrcttir 

'.less  of  the  toil  and  sweating. 

All  the  thirst  and  heat  forgetting. 

Spake  the  padre  stout  and  bra 
"Though  the  way  hath  worn  and  spent  me. 
Surely  Heaven  its  aid  hath  lent  me, 
Surely  Christ  himself  hath  sent  me 
Forth  these  heathen  host-  t 

Gleamed  the  city  clear  and  clearer, 
Seemed  it  near,  yet  never  nearer, 
Almost  might  the  listening  hearer 

Seeming  catch  its  busy  din. 
But  there  smote  no  clang  of  -abrc, 
Rose  no  song  of  flute  or  tabor, 
And  no  pulsing  tides  of  labor 

Drifted  out  or  entered  in. 


The  Phantom  City.  53 

Yet  in  vain  his  weary  toiling, 
'Ncath  that  glowing  furnace  broiling, 
Ever  some  curs'd  spell  seemed  foiling 

All  his  efforts  in  the  chase  ; 
Shrank  the  phantom  ever  fleeting, 
Ever  from  his  grasp  retreating, 
Where  the  dim  horizon  meeting, 

Kissed  the  desert's  deathly  face. 


Still  the  holy  father  wandered 
Ever  on  and  ever  pondered — 
"Here  the  heathen  hosts  have  squandered 

All  the  world's  bright  golden  store; 
In  this  vast  and  lonely  centre, 
With  the  Cross,  their  faithful  mentor, 
I  will  be  the  first  to  enter 

At  their  desert-guarded  door. 

"If  my  weak  endurance  fail  not, 
Satan's  wiles  shall  him  avail  not; 
Here  the  holy  Cross  shall  trail  not 

Longer  in  the  sighing  dust; 
Here  with  zealous,  brave  endeavor, 
Error's  head  His  sword  shall  sever, 
And  His  kingdom  reign  forever, 

Conquering  over  sin  and  lust." 

Still  more  gorgeous  glowed  the  splendor 
From  each  column,  tall  and  slender; 
Slept  a  glory  soft  and  tender, 

With  its  far  o'er-arching  light, 
Countless  rays  of  glory  flinging, 
From  each  temple  skyward  springing, 
Dazzling,  flashing,  trembling,  clinging 

Round  each  spire's  far-piercing  height 


54  The  Pliant 0111  City. 

Fiercer  gleamed  that  furnace,  glowing 
Like  the  lava-tide  o'crflowing, 
Ever  hot  and  hotter  growing, 

Withering  as  some  demon's  spites; 
Deadly  as  the  path  of  error; 
Though  no  mute  lips  made  demurrer, 
Fell  a  vague,  despairing  terror 

On  his  trembling  neophytes. 

Long  with  fruitless,  vain  endeavor, 
Followed  he  the  phantom  ever, 
On  and  onward,  ncaring  never; 

Till  at  eve,  ere  fell  the  night, 
Like  some  fairy's  bright  creation, 
Like  some  dazzling  exhalation, 
Dome  and  turret  and  foundation, 

Melted  from  his  longing  sight. 

Then  spake  Padre  Serra,  grieving, 
"This  is  some  cursed  spell,  deceiving  — 
But  a  charm  of  Satan's  weaving, 

Luring  souls  to  death,"  he  said, 
"With  some  cunning  incantation, 
From  the  pastures  of  salvation, 
To  this  deadly  dcsolation,"- 

Then  he  crossed  himself  and  fled. 


Still  the  traveler,  worn  and  weary, 
Wandering  o'er  the  deserts  dreary, 
Sees  that  phantom  dim  and  eerie, 

Gleaming,  beckoning  far  away; 
But  it  flees  his  longing  vision 
Like  a  spectre  in  derision; 
Fades  its  gorgeous  gleam  elysian, 

As  a  dream  at  break  of  day. 


Dreaming  by  the  Sea.  55 


DREAMING  BY  THE  SEA. 


I  sat  beside  the  sobbing  sea, 

The  throbbing  sea,  the  moaning  sea, 

And  gazed  as  o'er  eternity, 

With  eager  eyes  and  yearning  wist, 
To  pierce  the  trembling  veil  of  mist 

That  curtained  close  the  awful  sea. 

Faint  through  the  veil  a  vision  crept, 

A  glory  slept,  a  halo  slept 

O'er  coral  sweeps  where  stately  palms 
Waved  soft  o'er  everlasting  calms ; 

But  endless  seas  between  us  swept 

WThitc-coasted  lands  there  seemed  to  be 

Beyond  the  sea,  beyond  the  sea; 

Pale  phantoms  stretched  their  arms  to  me— 

Faint  shadowy  isles — if  isles  they  were — • 

Rose  indistinct  and  dim  afar; 
Far  o'er  the  sea,  the  boundless  sea. 

No  forms  substantial  met  my  gaze, 
My  longing  gaze,  my  trembling  gaze, 
But  glimpses  faint  of  shadowy  things, 
Some  instant  flash  of  gleaming  wings, 
Far  through  the  haze,  the  quivering  haze. 

I  lingered  long  and  dreamily 

Beside  the  sea,  the  mocking  sea, 

And  saw  the  trembling  phantoms  flee, 
As  o'er  the  hollow-sounding  main 
I  stretched  my  longing  arms  in  vain — 

O,  a \vful  sea  !    O,  cruel  sea  ! 


56  Via  Panama. 


VIA  PANAMA. 


From  San  Francisco's  busy  quays 

\Yc  parted  with  our  human  freight, 
And  'mid  September's  dreamy  haze 

\Ye  drifted  through  the  Golden  Gate. 

\Yc  sat  upon  the  crowded  deck, 

And  watched  the  silvery  night's  advance — 
Our  mighty  steamer  but  a  speck 

Upon  the  watery,  wide  expanse. 

And  gliding  through  the  flashing  foam, 

Our  thoughts  went  back  through  all  the  years — 

To  each  far,  happy,  childhood  home, 
That  we  had  left  'mid  smiles  and  tears. 

And  oh  !  the  happy,  tender  dreams 

That  hovered  round  each  sleeper's  bed, 

As  over  all,  the  mirage  gleams 
Of  hope,  a  glittering  halo  shed. 

lit  after  night,  but  dreams  of  bliss — 
The  land  almost  within  our  reach; 
And  every  morn  a  warmer  L 

The  tropic  zephyrs  gave  to  each. 

Day  after  day  we  coasted  down, 

And  saw  the  sunset  flame  and  glo\v 

Up  ;;mt  heights  that  crown 

The-  slumbering  land  of  Mexico. 

Like  waving  plumes  of  funeral  hearse 
The  smoke-wreaths  ln-vc-ivd  o'er  sublime, 

And  hung  like  MonUv.inna 

O'er  that  dark  land  of  blood  and  crime. 


Via  Panama. 

And  then  the  stars  in  silence  came 

With  glittering  eyes;  and  looking  back, 

We  saw  the  seething  seas  aflame, 
Along  our  phosphorescent  track. 

The  dim  volcano's  glare  we  saw 

Wave  like  a  torch  o'er  Aztec  graves, 

And  came  at  last  where  Panama 
Her  feet  in  coral  waters  laves. 

We  wandered  through  the  tangled  wood 

Of  that  luxuriant  tropic  land, 
And  stood  as  old  Balboa  stood, 

With  boundless  seas  on  either  hand, 

Outspread  like  God's  eternal  scrolls, 
That  tell  of  Life,  and  Death,  and  Fate, 

An  awful  mystery  on  our  souls, 
That  none  might  lift,  or  penetrate. 

Through  tangled  wilds,  in  languor  lost, 

'Mid  dark-eyed  maids  and  dark-browed  men, 

We  made  our  way,  and  so  we  crossed 
The  narrow  land  of  Darien. 

Once  more  upon  the  trackless  deep, 
When  fell  the  shades  of  twilight  gray, 

O'er  sparkling  waves,  and  seas  asleep, 
We  took  our  eager  homeward  way. 

And  fanned  by  aromatic  breeze, 

We  dreamed  of  other  vanished  years; 

When  o'er  the  Caribbean  Seas, 

Swept  the  fierce,  bloody  buccaneers. 

And  crimson  morn  with  smiles  of  love, 
Came  with  her  bright  celestial  glow ; 

And  not  more  soft  the  blue  above, 
Than  slept  the  tender  blue  below. 


57 


/  V  .'   i  \IILI ma. 

Yagtiv.  -h.id-wy  divam-lands  far  a\\ 
To  isles  of  light  and  glory  grew; 

The  bright  Antilles,  slumbering,  lay 
'Mid  softest  seas  of  trembling  blue. 

And  Cuba,  like  some  maiden  fair, 

Imploring,  stretched  her  jewelled  hand, 
And  tossed  her  bright  dishevelled  hair 
•  >vc  the  sighing,  sea-beat  strand. 

We  saw  far  o'er  the  shimmering  plain, 
The  low  Bahamas  nod  and  urcm 

And  plowed  the  same,  soft,  sleeping  main, 
First  parted  by  Columbus'  prows. 

And  nightly  still,  we  dreamed  and  slept, 
And  onward  kept  our  northward  course, 

And  ever  on,  resistless  swept, 

Urged  by  the  Gulf  Stream's  mighty  force 

Until  one  morn,  with  eager  look, 

Through  the  dim  night  shades  gazing  far, 
\Ye  saw  the  light  of  Sandy  Hook, 

Gleam  like  the  risen  morning  star. 

On,  like  a  sea-bird  to  her  nest — 

By  frowning  batteries  gliding  past— 

\Yc  skimmed  the  harbor's  placid  breast, 
And  homeward  came  at  last,  at  1 

And  so  we  parted  on  the  shore- 
Some  to  the  North,  some  to  tlu  I  '.a 

To  enter  soon  the  smiling  door 

Of  pit  -azure's  hall,  or  marriage-fra^t. 

Some  to  the  South,  some  to  the  \Yest — 
Each  to  his  own  long-waiting  hearth, 

And  childhood  home,  beloved  the  best — 
No  more  t«  ain  on  earth. 


La  Jornada  de  la  Muerte.  59 


LA  JORNADA  DE  LA  MUERTE. 

(THE  JOURNEY  OF  DEATH.) 


[A   LEGEND   OF   THE   GREAT   COLORADO   DESERT.] 


They  had  journeyed  long  and  far, 
Toward  the  sinking  evening  star, 
From  the  far  Missouri's  shore, 
With  their  cherished  household  store ; 
Turning  from  the  Eastern  gloam, 
Dreaming  of  a  brighter  home, 
Where  the  Western  ocean  laves 
Fairest  land  with  softest  waves. 

Manhood  strong  in  hopeful  years, 
Woman  with  hqr  smiles  and  tears, 
Youths  and  maidens  in  the  flush 
Of  life's  morning,  crimson  blush, 
Childhood  in  its  joyous  glee, 
Heedless  of  the  years  to  be, 
Silvery  age' and  beauty  fair, 
Strength  and  weakness — all  were  there; 
Father,  mother,  husband,  wife 
All  that  tell  of  hope  and  life. 

Leaving  home's  soft  hallowed  gleam, 
For  a  brighter,  golden  dream, 
Snapping  all  the  ties  that  bind, 
Turning,  leaving  all  behind. 
Loosing  all  love's  links  at  last — 
Garnered  memories  of  the  past, 
Of  the  consecrated  years, 
Altars  reared  'mid  smiles  and  tears, 
Tender  voices,  pleading  eyes, 
Graves  of  loved  ones — all  the  ties 
Fond  and  tender  round  us  cast, 
That  may  bind  us  to  the  past. 


6  La  Jornada  <lc  la  'Mncrte. 

\Yhcrc  the  savage  bands  liold  sway, 
Onward,  westward,  journeyed  they, 
Through  the  land  of  lance  and  bow, 
Of  the  fierce  Arapaho; 
O'er  the  lonely,  lonely  miles, 
Through  the  treacherous  defiles, 
Shrouded,  dark,  and  murder-dyed, 
Death  and  danger,  side  by  side ; 
Through  the  dread  Apache  lands, 
Through  the  Gila's  weary  sands, 

ath  its  sighing  cottonvvood, 
Westward,  till  at  last  they  stood 
Weary-worn  and  travel-sore, 
On  the  Colorado's  shore. 

Hazy  dimness  like  a  pall, 
Quivering,  overshadowed  all; 
On  the  river's  farther  shore, 
Desolation  spread  before. 
There  the  desert's  fiery  breath, 
Furnace-fanned  and  fraught  with  death, 
Kver  casts  its  withering  spell, 
Dark  as  sin  and  hot  as  hell. 
There  the  shriveled  zephyr  flees 
O'er  the  grave  of  perished  seas; 
\\eath  the  glow  of  fiery  skies, 
Hopeless,  moaning,  faints  and  dies. 

Where  the  blasted  levels  lay, 
Slow  they  took  their  weary  way 
Through  that  awful  desert  sea, 
Hopeful  of  the  days  to  be. 
But  a  little,  they  should  rest 
At  the  portal  of  the  West, 
Of  the  earthly  paradise 
Over-arched  by  softest  skies. 


La  Jornada  de  la  Mucrte.  61 

Hour  by  hour  they  strove  and  toiled, 
Thirst-beset  and  furnace-broiled, 
All  a-night  and  all  a-day, 
Toiling  on  their  weary  way ; 
Still  another  cruel  night, 
O'er  that  awful  desert  blight, 
Every  vein  a  stream  of  fire, 
Burning  with  a  hot  desire; 
Strength  and  courage  almost  spent, 
Saddened  by  some  dread  portent 
Of  a  dark  and  direful  end 
That  they  might  not  comprehend ; 
Slow  their  drooping  beasts  they  urge 
Toward  the  dim  horizon's  verge, 
Till  each  black  and  swollen  tongue 
From  the  fevered  lips  outhung. 

Slowly  sank  the  fervid  sun 
When  that  day  was  almost  done ; 
But  a  darker,  deathlier  pall 
Gathered,  threatening,  over  all. 
Sudden  swept  the  whirlwind's  breath, 
O'er  the  dread  expanse  of  death, 
And  the  burning  sands  arose, 
Drifting  like  the  wintry  snows, 
With  their  smothering,  blinding  wrack, 
Over  fading  trail  and  track, 
Like  the  mad  waves  tempest-tossed, 
Till  all  things  were  hid  and  lost. 

Utter  woe  with  ruin  blent, 
When  that  blast  of  hell  was  spent, 
Beasts  lay  dead  and  dying  there ; 
Death,  and  horror,  and  despair, 
Like  an  awful  nightmare  pressed 
Dark  and  heavy  on  each  breast. 
Slowly  passed  the  night  away, 


62  La  Jornada  dc  h  Mucrte. 

And  another  burning  day 

Found  them  of  all  hope  bereft — 

Not  a  drop  of  water  left, 

Not  a  beast  to  give  them  aid, 

Not  a  shrub  to  give  them  shade; 

All  around  a  dazzling  gleam, 

Death  and  horror  reigned  supreme. 

Long  they  wandered  where  the  sands 

Scorched  and  scared  like  burning  brands; 

\Yhere  the  zephyrs  faint  and  die, 

On  the  plains  of  alkali; 

But  no  crystal  fount  or  stream 

Gladdened  with  its  silvery  gleam — 

Scarce  a  hope  its  glimmer  lent, 

Strength  and  courage  almost  spent. 

Sudden  cried  a  drooping  child, 
Starting  with  a  gesture  wild, 
As  her  face  despair  forsook, 
"  There  is  water,  mother — look  ! 
Sec  !  a  lake  spreads  far  and  wide, 
And  the  green  trees  fringe  its  side." 
Lo  !  before  their  longing  eyes 
Spread  a  dream  of  Paradise; 
Stretching  brightly  far  away, 
Mirror-like  the  waters  lay. 
Never  fell  the  sun's  hot  kiss 
On  a  fairer  oasis 
'Mid  the  burning  wastes  of  sand 
Of  swart  A  Trie's  lonely  land. 
Glancing  in  the  sun's  bright  beams, 
Flashing  far  their  dazzling  gleams, 
Like  a  diamond's  radiant  light, 
Lay  the  waters  pure  and  bright, 
And  encircling,  close  and  fond, 
Rose  the  emerald  hills  beyond. 


La  Jornada  de  la  J\luerte.  63 

Swiftly  o'er  each  burning  brain, 

Rushed  the  flood  of  hope  again. 

Soon  their  weary  steps  should  rest 

In  that  Eden  of  the  West, 

And  their  burning  feet  might  lave 

In  the  cooling,  crystal  wave. 

Long  that  gleam  their  steps  pursued 

O'er  the  awful  solitude, 

Still  evading  with  its  glow 

Every  footstep,  fast  or  slow, 

Ever  mocked  their  longing  eyes 

With  its  glint  of  Paradise; 

Like  the  glitter  of  a  star, 

Seeming  never  near  nor  far. 

Ever  from  their  burning  feet 
Seemed  that  vision  to  retreat 
From  their  ardent,  longing  haste, 
Till  it  vanished  o'er  the  waste, 
Melted  into  dimness  gray, 
Faded,  fled,  and  passed  away. 

Still  they  struggled,  staggering,  blind, 
Doubt  before  and  death  behind ; 
Still  pursued  each  mirage  bright, 
Till  it  faded  from  their  sight, 
Baseless  as  a  midnight  dream, 

Or  the  gorgeous  rainbow's  gleam. 

****** 

Years  and  years  had  sped  and  gone, 
Gloom  of  eve  and  flush  of  dawn, 
Silent  each  succeeding  each, 
Never  woke  by  human  speech; 
Never  human  footsteps  fell 
Faint  to  break  that  ghastly  spell; 
In  the  desert's  fiery  breath, 
Silence,  mystery,  awe  and  death, 
Brooding  ever,  still  the  same, 


La  Jornada  lie  !.i  Mucrte. 

When  the  mighty  builders  came, 

Laying  down  their  iron  track 
O'er  the  desolation  black, 
With  resistless  Titan  tread, 
Heedless  of  the  waste-  outspread, 
Clasping  firm  the  iron  ban- 
Linking  lands  to  sister  lands — 
When  they  paused  at  what  they  saw, 
With  a  mute  and  trembling  awe: 

Ringed  around  in  circle  white, 
Holding  each  to  other  tight, 
Bleaching  skeletons  lay  there 
With  their  empty  sockets'  glare, 
Vacant  staring,  westward  turned 
Still,  as  when  the  eyeballs  burned 
With  that  last  despairing  look, 
When  life's  quivering  pulse  forsook. 
Not  a  ravening  beast  or  bird 
Flcshlcss  limb  or  trunk  had  stirred; 
Not  a  hungry  wolf  might  dare 
Thus  to  brave  the  desert's  glare 
In  that  waste  of  terror  wide — 
Thus  they  lay  as  thus  they  died. 

O'er  those  mcnlof  iron,  fell 
Tearful  pity's  tender  spell, 

they  gazed  with  halting  breath 
On  that  circle  dread  of  death, 
And  they  left  them  to  their  sleep 
In  that  stillness  lone  and  deep; 
Awed  and  fearful  turned  away, 
Turned,  and  left  them  as  they  lay; 
Witli  a  whispered,  trembling  prayer, 
In  that  awful  silence  there — 
Left  them  with  a  shuddering  thrill, 
Firm  in  death,  united  still. 


Illusion.  65 


ILLUSION. 

Life  is  but  a  phantom  seeming,  but  a  vision  and  a  dreaming1, 
Mirage  mockings  of  the  future,  rainbow  memories  of  the  past; 

Joy  and  mirth  succeeding  sorrow,  night  shades  dim  the  bright  to 
morrow, 
And  the  sunshine,  and  the  shadow,  follows  each  the  other  fast. 

Fitful  slumbering,  fitful  waking,  but  a  little,  lo !  the  breaking 
Of  the  fleecy  clouds  of  morning  into  storms  of  tears  and  sighs; 

Fled  the  bright  illusion  tender,  evanescent  as  the  splendor 
Of  the  rainbow's  haloed  glories,  tinted  on  the  eastern  skies. 

We  arc  but  as  spectres  fearing,  dimly  seen  and  disappearing 
As  the  quick  electric  currents,  swift  that  sudden  flash   and 

dart — 
But  a  mist  our  transient  being,  ever  fading,  ever  fleeing, 

We  are  but  as    dreams    unstable,   "come  like    shadows,   so 
depart;" 

As  the  fainting,  lost  prospector,  longing  for  the  fountain's  nectar, 
Wandering  on  o'er  thirsty  deserts,  chasing  every  mirage  gleam, 

Following    still   with  footsteps    weary,  o'er  the  dim   expanses 

dreary, 
Resting  never,  and  we  ever  dream  to  wake,  and  wake  to  dream. 

So  the  mystic  visions  quiver  o'er  life's  desert  sands  forever, 

And  we   know  not  clearly,  truly,  which  is  dreaming,  which  is 

sight ; 
Which  the  oldest,  which  the  newest ;  which  the  falsest,  which  the 

truest; 

Which  the  saddest,  which  the  maddest — dreamings  of  the  day, 
or  night. 


66  The  Children  of  the  Sun. 


THE  CHILDREN  OF  THE  SUN. 


[  \  TALK  OF  THi:  LAND  OF  THF.  INOAS.] 

Long  ere  the  conquering  Saracen 

1  lad  come  to  rule  with  sword  and  pen, 

Ere  yet  the  light  Alhambra's  gleam 

Rose  like  a  magic  fairy  dream, 

Their  country  matters  not — perchance 

'Twas  smiling  Spain  or  sunny  France — 

The  old,  old  story  told  again, 

A  youth  and  maiden  loved  in  vain. 

Vain,  vain  their  hopes  of  love's  desires; 
A  deadly  feud  between  their  sires 
Raged  like  the  red  volcano's  wrath, 
That  swallows  cities  in  its  path — 
As  seas  by  fretful  storms  displeased 
That  will  not  sleep,  or  be  appeased 
What  use  to  plead  with  sighing  breath  ? 
To  brave  that  storm  of  hate,  was  death ; 
'ian  death  e'er  held  in  store, 
The  fiat,  "Ye  shall  meet  no  more  !" 
But  never  yet  hath  bolt  or  bar 
Obscured  the  light  of  love's  soft  star, 
When  true  hearts,  fond  and  trustful,  meet 
Responsive  each  to  other's  beat, 
Save  for  the  brief  and  passing  hour, 
When  love  asserts  her  conquering  power 
O'er  hate's  dark  machinations  vain, 
And  joy  and  sunshine  smile  again. 
To  sigh,  to  weep,  to  dream,  to  plan, 
To  meet  once  more,  despite  that  ban, 
When  fall  the  moonbeams  cold  and  pale — 
This  is  the  old  familiar  talc, 
And  will  be  ever  'neath  the  sun 
While  zephyrs  waft,  or  waters  run. 


The  Children  of  the  Sun.  67 

Oh,  that  they  might  to  some  lone  isle, 

Far  from  the  cruel  world  remote, 
Where  summer  skies  forever  smile, 

On  spicy  breezes  drift  and  float ! 
To  live  and  love  by  silvery  streams 

That  laugh  and  sing,  the  sweet  years  through, 

Where  heart  to  heart  throbs  ever  true! 
(This  was  the  burden  of  their  dreams.) 

Still  would  they  speed  before  the  breeze, 
And  in  the  hush  of  crimson  dawn, 

'Neath  tropic  skies,  o'er  sleeping  seas, 
Forever  love  and  wander  on, 

To  some  lone  island  far  away, 
And  they  would  tarry  on  some  shore 
Where  human  passions  never  more, 

Save  love  and  faith,  should  hold  their  sway. 

i 
His  father's  bark  lay  at  the  shore, 

Full -freighted  with  a  precious  store 
Of  all  that  greedy  tribes  might  crave — 

The  Algerine,  the  dusky  Moor — 

Beyond  Gibraltar's  frowning  door, 
Of  food  and  drink  for  lord  and  slave. 

Slow  tolled  the  solemn  midnight  bell, 

To  sigh  a  trembling,  fond  farewell 

To  home  and  country,  friend  and  foe, 

And  all  the  ties  the  heart  may  know, 

Save  love;  to  cast  the  moorings  free 

Was  but  a  moment,  and  the  sea 

Spread  dim  before  them,  vague  and  vast, 

And  they  were  free  to  love,  at  last. 

The  sweet-breathed  morning  softly  came 
And  lit  the  slumbering  seas  with  flame; 

Naught  came  to  break  their  trance  of  love — 
No  tumult  as  when  billows  sweep, 
No  riot  on  the  boundless  deep— 


68  The  Children  of  the  Sun. 

But  seas  around  and  sky  above. 

Soon,  soon  they  left  their  country's  shore 
Upon  the  far  hori/on's  brink, 
And  saw  their  mountains  fade  and  sink 

To  greet  their  vision  nevermore. 

The  favoring  zephyrs  westward  blew 
And  fast  before,  their  vessel  Hew; 

They  watched  the  blue  Azores  fade, 
As  fades  a  fairy  midnight  dream, 
Then  saw  the  sunset's  dying  gleam 

Slow  pale  and  mellow  into  shade. 

Still  further  on  their  westward  way 
The  sweet  winds  bore  them,  day  by  day, 

And  not  an  adverse  storm  arose 
To  bend  their  mast,  or  flap  their  sail — 
No  seas  made  mad  by  shrieking  gale, 

To  break  their  love's  complete  repose, 
Still  wafted  soft  by  favoring  breeze, 
They  drifted  oVr  the  dreamy  se 

Until  they  woke  one  purple  morn 
Beside  a  fairy,  flowery  land, 
Where  soft  waves  kissed  the  sleeping  strand, 

As  mothers  kiss  their  newly-born. 
Spell-bound  in  wondering  trance  thev  stood, 

.By  mingled  awe  and  hope  pOS 

\Yhcre  on  the  ocean's  balmy  breast, 

A  mighty  river  poured  its  iio,,d, 
Impetuous  in  its  sweeping  force; 

As  ocean  wide  :  d  to  be, 

And  in  it-  bn  .ad  majestic  course 

As  cini!  lernity. 

fair  winds  borne  still  on  and  on, 
They  stemmed  the  queenly  A  ma/on; 
The  sweet  vanilla's  rich  perfumes 


The  CJiildren  of  tlie  Sun.  69 

Came  on  the  heavy-laden  breeze, 

And  gorgeous  birds,  with  rainbow  plumes 
Sang  low  and  dreamy  'mid  the  trees. 

And  they  might  rest  beneath  those  skies 

'Mid  bloom  of  sweet  perpetual  flowers, 
But  savage  men,  with  savage  eyes, 

Glared  fiercely  through  the  tangled  bowers. 
Upon  the  river's  farther  banks, 

Majestic  in  their  dusky  charms, 
Strange  women  ranged  in  martial  ranks, 

Defiant,  shook  their  threatening  arms. 

Still  on  toward  the  setting  sun, 

Their  course  through  vine-wreathed  vistas  lay, 
Nor  when  the  day's  bright  course  was  run, 

For  tide  or  pilot  tarried  they— 
Still  westward  swept  at  eve  and  dawn, 

Where  never  fell  the  frost's  breath  chill, 
Through  mazes  on,  and  ever  on, 

Vast  and  interminable  still. 

O,  sloth-ruled  waste  !  O,  spell-bound  land  ! 

Where  wasteful  nature  revel  keeps 
And  sows  her  gifts  with  lavish  hand, 

But  never  lazy  reaper  reaps ; 
That  dreamest  still  as  at  the  dawn 

Of  Time's  dim  morning,  old  and  gray — 
When  wilt  thou  stand  erect  in  brawn  ? 

When  shall  thy  languor  pass  away  ? 

At  last,  beyond  that  tangled  wild, 

In  snowy  grandeur  towering  high, 
They  saw  tall,  glittering  steeps  up-piled, 

Like  giants  looming  in  the  sky; 
Far  thro'  the  depths  of  sapphire  skies 

They  gleamed  like  glittering  jewels  set — 
A  magic  dream,  a  world's  surprise — 


70  The  Children  of  the  Sun. 

Within  some  queenly  coronet, 
And  yet  so  far,  so  far  away ! 
They  drifted  onward  day  by  day, 

Until  at  last  the  mountain  wall 
Rose  just  before  them,  sheer  and  steep, 
And  from  the  skies,  with  dizzy  leap, 

Down  plunged  a  mighty  waterfall, 
Immeasurable  in  its  height, 

Born  in  some  far  ethereal  zone, 
It  seemed  a  flood  of  liquid  light 

Down-poured  from  heaven's  eternal  throne. 
O'cr-arching,  like  a  fairy  dream, 

The  flashing  spray,  the  trembling  wood, 

A  gorgeous  rainbow  o'er  the  flood 
Soft  shed  its  bright  prismatic  gleam. 

Gay-plumagcd  birds  and  brilliant  flowers, 
Beneath  the  flush  of  tropic  skies, 

'Mid  summer's  ever  leafy  bowers, 
Vied  with  the  rainbow's  gorgeous  d; 

And  here  beneath  this  Eden  ray, 
But  for  the  serpent's  deadly  hiss, 

The  soul  might  dream  itself  away, 
And  die  with  surfeit  of  its  bliss. 

And  here,  perforce,  an  end  was  made 
Of  that  romance  of  sea  and  stream — 
As  of  some  tender  fairy  dream — 

And  hand  in  hand  they  sought  the  shade. 

Beside  the  torrent's  rushing  sweep, 
A  winding  trail  led  up  the  steep, 

Close  hidden   ncath  the  bright  festoons 
Of  interwoven  vines  and  fl<> 
Dim  leafy  shades  and  ma/.y  hewers, 

Fond  tropic  nature's  SUCH  h  st  boons. 


The  Children  of  tJie  Sun.  7 1 

Some  power  unseen,  some  vague  desire 
Still  led  them  upward,  higher,  higher, 

Through  tangled  ways,  and  mazy  turns, 
Until  they  rested  in  a  seat 

Embowered  in  vines  and  giant  ferns — 
A  tropic  empire  'neath  their  feet. 

Far,  far  beneath,  away,  away, 

They  saw  the  boundless  forest  spread, 

And  through  its  heart  the  river's  ray, 
Gleam  like  an  endless  silver  thread. 


Bright  visions  like  soft  clouds  of  air, 
O'er  heart  and  soul  went  drifting  fast; 

They  slept,  and  dreamed  that  even  there, 
Love's  Eden-home  was  found  at  last. 

A  savage,  wild,  unearthly  yell, 

That  treachery  and  death  bespoke, 

As  bursts  from  demons  loosed  from  hell, 
The  dreamy  solitude  awoke; 

Dark,  naked  forms  with  lance  and  bow, 
Emerging  from  the  tangled  wood, 

In  savage,  threatening,  ceaseless  flow, 
Between  them  and  their  vessel  stood  ; 

They  saw  her  plundered  of  their  stores, 

And  then  'mid  dance  and  savage  games, 
And  shout,  and  yell,  and  riot  wide, 
Their  vessel  drifted  down  the  tide, 

Enwrapt  in  fierce,  consuming  flames. 

Not  long  they  mourned  within  their  bovver, 
O'er  love's  bright,  perished  visions,  sweet, 
Not  here  might  rest  their  weary  feet, 

Where  treachery  and  hate  held  power; 


72  fhc  Children  of  the  Sun. 

And  they  would  scale  that  mighty  wall 
That  loomed  across  t'ieir  westward  course, 
And  view  the  dim,  mysterious  source 

Of  that  far,  dizzy  waterfall. 

Long,  long  they  toiled  through  awful  space, 

Where  fear  the  reeling  senses  steeped, 
To  gain  the  summit  of  that  fact-, 

•m  whence  the  giddy  waters  leaped. 

They  stood  upon  a  precipice 

So  vast,  so  vague,  so  tall,  so  lone, 
A  spot  within  that  gleaming  zone, 

The  first  and  last  the  sun  might  kiss. 

A  rushing  river,  deep  and  cl 

Born  in  the  white,  eternal  snow, 

Impetuous  urged,  white-lipped  with  fear, 
Went  madly  plunging  down  below — 

So  deep,  so  far,  no  sound  came  back 
Upon  the  shrinking,  trembling  air, 
And  swooning  vision  in  despair, 

Turned  shuddering  from  its  fearful  track. 

15 ut  other  scenes  of  glory  bright, 

And  free  from  terror's  fettering  chain, 
Broke  on  the  wondering  lovers'  sight, 

And  claimed  their  senses  back  again  ; 
Afar  the  sunset's  dying  rays 

ais  splendor  quivered  down, 

And  every  snowy  dome  and  crown 
With  flashing  fire  was  all  ab! 

And  other  sights  as  strange,  as  new, 
As  spell-entranced,  they  silent  gazed 
As  dreamers  sudden  wake  amazed, 

Burst  on  their  wondering,  raptured  view. 


The  Children  of  the  Sun.  73 

Strange  beings,  shy,  as  half  ashamed, 
That  seemed  to  gaze  in  awe  and  fear, 
As  those  that  may  not  venture  near 

To  sacred  things,  their  vision  claimed ; 
Stone-still  they  stood,  erect  and  tall, 

As  still  as  sentries  at  their  post, 

As  men  whose  senses  sleep  in  thrall, 

In  adoration  all  engrossed, 

Until  by  gracious  signs  assured; 

They  came  as  birds  that  venture  near 

The  charmer,  half  in  doubt  and  fear, 
By  fascination's  spell  allured — 

As  Israel's  host  received  the  law, 

When  God  in  Sinai's  thunders  spoke, 

Deep  veiled  in  shuddering  clouds  of  smoke — 

They  came  in  mute  and  trembling  awe. 

Dark-skinned,  soft-eyed,  lute-voiced,  and  sweet 

Their  accents,  low  each  gentle  tone 

As  zephyr's  breath  through  wind-harp  blown, 
They  came  and  kissed  their  idols'  feet, 

And  evermore  with  doting  eyes 
They  gazed  and  gazed  in  silence  deep 
As  those  that  priceless  jewels  keep — 

As  misers  on  their  golden  prize — 
Then  ever  still,  and  still  again, 

As  men  with  wonder  never  done, 
They  pointed  to  the  lovers  twain, 

Then  westward  to  the  setting  sun. 
And  others  still  with  stealthy  creep, 

As  creeps  the  puma  soft  and  low 

To  watch  the  footsteps  of  its  foe, 
Close  crouching,  gazed  adown  the  steep; 

As  men  by  secret  dread  oppressed, 
They  pointed  downward  as  in  fear, 
As  those  that  dream  of  danger  near, 

Then  motioned  onward  to  the  west 


74  T/ie  Children  of  //!• 

Long,  long  that  upward  trail  they  kept 

With  quickening  breath  and  footsteps  fleet, 

Nor  \\x-ary  paused,  nor  resting  slept, 
Until  the  snowfields  kissed  their  feet. 

Above  the  wide,  wan,  wastes  of  snow, 
Like  mourner  o'er  her  lifeless  cl 
Whence  life  and  warmth  have  passed  away, 

The  moon  hung  tremulous  and  low; 

Thick  blazed  the  stars  as  diamonds  sown; 

All,  all  above  was  cold  and  white, 

The  shuddering  heights  stood  tall  and  lone, 

And  all  beneath  was  black  as  night. 
And  here  within  a  friendly  cave, 
That  warmth  and  shelter  kindly  gave, 

While  watchful  eyes  their  vigil  kept 
Beneath  the  moon's  cold  dazzling  rays, 
Beside  the  watch-fire's  softened  blaze, 

The  Idol-Children  sweetly  slept. 

O'er  every  dome  in  flashing  gleams, 
The  sun  in  blaze  effulgent  broke, 

As  from  their  fairy  tender  dreams, 
The  slumbering  lovers  softly  woke; 

Sweet  wondering  glances  met  their  gaze, 
Soft  waiting  footsteps  lingered  near, 
Low  murmurs  thrilled  upon  the  car, 

As  pious  pilgrims  offer  praise; 

The}'  came  and  bowed  them  at  their  feet 

And  "  Manco  Capac  "  murmured  low, 
And  ".Mama,"  and  "Oella"  sweet, 

Her  name  with  liquid  tender  flow. 

They  stood  upon  a  crater's  rim 
So  vast,  so  wide,  so  dark,  so  deep, 
Eternal  shadow  seemed  to  sleep 

Forever  in  its  caverns  dim; 


T/ie  Children  of  the  Sun.  75 

Down,  down  they  plunged  from  that  vast  height. 
That  shuddered  o'er  the  black  abyss, 
Whose  depths  the  sunbeams  never  kiss, 

From  dazzling  day,  to  blackest  night. 
Before  them  spread  a  dream  of  death — 

A  glimpse  of  hell — a  blasted  plain 
Where  never  spring's  soft,  fairy  breath 

Brought  life  or  verdure  in  its  train. 
But  late  from  fiery  thrall  released, 

The  cindery  path  their  footsteps  pressed, 
Scarce  yet  the  earthquake  throes  had  ceased, 

To  heave  sad  earth's  unquiet  breast ; 
Deep,  black-lipped  fissures  gaped  and  yawned 

Whence  late  the  fiery  surges  leapt, 

And  chaos  in  his  cradle  slept 
As  when  creation's  morning  dawned. 

No  life,  no  flower,  no  song-bird's  tune 
Above  that  wrath-swept  blasted  crust; 

Dead,  dead,  sweet  nature's  ashes  strewn, 
As  perished  Sodom's  dreamless  dust. 

Nor  rest,  nor  pause,  but  on  and  on 

'Neath  frowning  crags,  through  blackened  chasms, 
Deep  rent  and  rifted  years  agone 

In  nature's  fierce  convulsive  spasms, 
Still  westward  lay  their  toilsome  course, 

O'er  lifeless  wastes  of  ashen  wrath, 
Where  nature's  vast  gigantic  force 

Had  swept  the  mountains  from  her  path; 
Great  condors,  throned  like  mighty  kings 

That  gaze  afar  and  ponder  deep, 

Sat  brooding  o'er  some  awful  steep, 
Or  swept  through  space  on  shadowy  wings; 

And  so  for  weary  days  and  days, 
Their  narrow  pathway  onward  led 
O'er  ghastly  wastes  and  cinders  dead, 

Through  rocky  rifts,  o'er  ashen  ways. 


76  The  Children  of  the  Sun. 

At  last !  at  last !  the  welcome  end  ! 

Soft  sleeping  vales  and  silvery  streams, 

And  all  love's  fond  romantic  dreams 
In  one  bright  ray  of  glory  blend. 

A  waking  dream,  such  glorious  morn 
As  only  comes  to  lovers  true, 
Such  morns  as  Eve  and  Adam  knew, 

Lre  sorrow  came,  or  death  was  born. 

Close  clung  the  trembling  veil  of  white 

To  shadowy  Misti's  awful  height; 

Like  giants  in  their  stern  repose, 
Calm,  still,  and  terrible  and  deep — 
Like  weary  sentries  fast  asleep, 

Vague  steeps  through  vaguer  deeps  up-rose. 
h  o'er  the  land  like  conquering  hosts 

Dim  looking  down  o'er  sea  and  plain, 
Above  the  dreamy  slumbering  coasts, 

Far  stretched  the  Andes'  glittering  chain. 
.Afar,  like  banners  half  unfurled, 

h  o'er  each  snowy  crater's  crown, 

\Yhcrc  solitude  looks  ever  down, 
The  drifting  smoke^wreaths  writhed  and  curled. 

The  march  of  morning,  scarce  begun, 
Fell  o'er  the  world  with  wakening  tread, 
And  Titicaca's  might}' spread, 

lied  like  a  mirror  in  the  sun. 
parkling  waters  bright,  caressed, 

Illumed  by  virgin  nature's  Min'le, 
Like  babe  upon  its  mother's  biv 

Soft  ilream ing,  slept  tin-  Sacred  Isle. 

Another  world  lay  calm  and  true, 
rcted  in  the  trembling  surge, 

And  many  an  isle  rose  faint  and  blue, 
n  the  dim  horizon's  verge. 


The  Children  of  the  Sun. 

Far  o'er  the  tide,  in  darkening  crowds, 
That  spread  as  they  would  end  no  more 

Swift  boats,  like  water-fowl,  in  clouds 
Came  sweeping  onward  to  the  shore. 

And  trembling  all  the  coasts  along 
The  listening  air  with  hymn  and  song — 

A  loving  people's  simple  art — 
And  prayerful  praise  with  music  blent, 

To  welcome  to  a  Nation's  heart 
The  sacred  pair  their  Sun-God  sent. 

A  song  of  welcome,  full  and  free, 

A  people  sang,  sweet  tender- voiced ; 

From  snow-crowned  height  to  tropic  sea, 
A  nation  in  its  heart  rejoiced. 

From  every  side,  from  east  to  west, 
In  deep,  expectant,  swift  advance, 
They  came  as  eager,  laden  ants, 

That  bear  their  treasures  to  their  nest. 

Of  station  high,  and  low  degree, 

They  gathered  round  in  mighty  rings, 
As  those  that  to  earth's  mightiest  kings 

Would  render  homage  full  and  free. 

Then  venturing  shyly,  one  by  one, 
Gazed  with  a  childish  awe,  complete, 

Upon  the  "Children  of  the  Sun," 

And  prostrate,  worshipped  at  their  feet. 

Then  trembling,  kissed  their  garment-hems, 
As  lovers  trembling,  kiss  the  bride; 

And  cast  before  them  gold  and  gems 
A  king  might  envy  in  his  pride. 


78  The  Children  of  the  Sun. 

How  to  the  lovers  shone  the  earth ! 

What  gorge  >us  dreams  their  tints  disclose! 
What  hopes  within  their  souls  had  birth! 

What  visions  of  the  future  rose  ! 

Spell-rapt  they  stood,  long  gazing,  he — 
dream,  a  dream  of  glory's  dower, 
Of  kingly  crown,  and  fame  and  power, 
And  mighty  empires  yet  to  be; 

Where  love  and  duty  still  should  sway, 
A  nation's  weal,  a  people's  good; 

Not  born  to  crumble  in  a  day — 
An  empire  peaceful,  not  of  blood 

And  fair  Oella,  what  of  all 
That  fairy-land  by  nature  mi, 
That  glorious  scene  that  sudden  burst, 

And  speechless  held  her  soul  in  thrall? 

A  tender  light  like  heaven's  own  gleam, 
Lay  in  her  glorious  spell-tranced  gaze, 

And  in  lu-r  vision  slept  a  dream 
Of  fruitful  lands,  and  happy  days; 

Of  love  and  loving  free  from  guile, 

In  that  bright  Kden  of  the  v. 
And  happ;  ;hat,  sleeping,  smile 

.d  dream  upon  their  mothers'  breast, 
Of  all  wherewith  fond  earth  may  bless 
1  ler  children  in  her  tcndcrn* 

And  oVr  her  soul  bright  visions  swept 
Like  fleecy  cloud-wreaths  idly  blown, 
The  fondest  dreams  the;  soul  hath  known, 

Since  maiden  smiled  or  woman  wept. 


The  Children  of  tJie  Sun.  ?g 

And  so  with  hymn  and  joyful  song", 

Amid  a  nation's  grand  acclaim, 
Borne  by  a  mighty  fleet  along, 

The  lovers  to  their  island  came. 

And  'mid  the  waters'  calm  repose, 

Watched  by  the  bright,  Aymara  lands, 
As  reared  by  loving  fairy-hands, 

A  magic  temple  softly  rose. 

And  here,  enthroned  'mid  smiling  bowers, 
Where  heights  eternal  pierce  the  sky, 

They  dreamed,  cncrowned  with  love  and  flowers, 
And  watched  the  peaceful  years  go  by. 

Long  slept  the  isle  in  tender  thrall, 

And  temples  rose  on  every  hand, 
And  there  was  fruitful  love  for  all, 

And  peace  and  plenty  in  the  land. 

As  some  long  day  that  lights  the  west, 
Till  twilight  comes  with  tints  of  gray, 

So  sank  the  Children  to  their  rest, 
As  sinks  the  sun  at  eve,  away. 

And  through  the  long,  sweet  centuries, 
O'er  all  that  sun-kissed  empire  wide, 

As  fruitful  queens  o'er  happy  bees, 
Their  children  loving,  ruled  and  died. 

Calm  where  the  waters  flashed  and  gleamed, 

The  Incas  slept  in  nature's  smile, 
Still  dreaming,  loved,  and  loving,  dreamed, 

Forever  in  the  Sacred  Isle. 

And  peaceful  in  their  days,  and  just, 
Beneath  the  rulers  Heaven  had  sent, 

Sweet  in  their  simple,  childish  trust, 
The  generations  came  and  went 


Bo  TIic  Children  of  tlie  Sun. 

****** 
\Yhat  Strange  wild  savage  shouts  are  t!i 
ne  southward  on  the  startled  brct 

The  Christian  comes  with  sword  and  cross, 
And  bigot  hate,  as  dark  anil  fell 
As  ever  stirred  the  depths  of  hell, 

And  soul  athirst  for  yellow  dross. 
And  damning  treachery  as  deep 
As  earth  may  know,  or  hell  may  keep, 

Came  in  his  boastful  blighting  train; 
And  all  her  gorgeous  halls,  and  towers, 
And  temples  wreathed  in  smiling  flowers, 

Sweet  Love  had  builded  all  in  vain. 
Down-trodden  in  the  sighing  dust, 
Beneath  the  heel  of  robber  lust; 

Thy  sacred  children  captive,  dead, 
O'crthrown  thy  temples  vast  and  grand, 
Thy  sun  hath  set,  O,  Inca-Land  ! 

Thy  dream  of  empire  ended,  fled  ! 

On  all  the  treasures  of  the  land, 
Bold  rapine  laid  his  gory  hand  ; 

A  glorious  line  but  lived  in  name, 
That  once  had  ruled  where  plenty  teemed — 
That  o'er  the  darkness  Hashed  and  gleamed, 
And  all  that  love  had  wrought  or  dreamed, 

Sank  in  a  sea  of  blood  and  flame. 

O  land  of  ruin,  sighing,  lone  ! 
O  land  of  temples  overthrown  ! 

1  li:-hed  is  thy  song  of  Ollantay,* 
Thy  glorious  race  of  empire  run; 
Stripped  of  thy  jewels  every  one, 
Tl  -thy  "Children  of  the  Sun" — 

Love's  dream  of  ag<  1  away. 

•  For  "  Song  of  Ollantay,"  sec  Prescott's  "  Peru." 


«W/iat  Is  the  Soul?"  81 


"WHAT  IS  THE  SOUL?" 


"What  is  the  Soul  ?"     Go  !  ask  the  wind 

That  wanders  far  and  free 
In  chainless  freedom,  unconfincd, 

Through  sky,  o'er  earth,  and  sea, 
Then  murmurs  sadly  o'er  the  lawn 
With  dying  cadence,  and  is  gone. 

"What  is  the  Soul  ?"     Go  !  ask  the  rose 
That  sheds  her  sweet  perfume 

In  dreamy,  tender,  soft  repose 
Amid  her  fading  bloom, 

Then  gives  her  petals  to  the  blast, 

Borne  to  oblivion,  far  and  fast. 

Go  !  ask  the  rainbow  in  the  skies 

Aglow  with  gorgeous  rays ; 
Go  !  ask  the  mist  that  swiftly  flies 

Before  the  sun's  bright  blaze; 
Go  !  ask  the  dew-drop  at  the  dawn, 
That  gleams  and  sparkles,  and  is  gone. 

Ask  of  the  desert's  mirage  gleam, 

The  feathery  falling  flake ; 
Ask  of  the  bubble  on  the  stream, 

The  dimple  on  the  lake; 
Ask  of  the  shadow  in  the  glass — 
Of  all  things  brief,  that  come  and  pass. 

Ask  of  the  zephyr's  breath  that  sighs 

The  flowery  meadows  o'er; 
Go  !  ask  the  meteors  of  the  skies, 

That  flee  and  are  no  more, 
That  flame  an  instant  on  the  sight, 
Then  vanish  'mid  the  gloom  of  night. 

6 


82  Hope. 


Ask  of  the  ever-changing  moon, 

Of  sunshine  and  of  shade; 
Ask  of  all  things  that;  vanish  soon — 

Ask  of  all  tilings  that  fade— 
Of  bubble,  rainbow,  dew  and  wind, 
That  go  and  leave  no  trace  behind. 

Go !    wrest  their  secrets  from  the  stars, 
The  mysteries  from  the  deep; 

Of  all  within  her  iron  bars, 

F.arth's  darkest  dungeons  keep; 

Go  !  find  the  Arctic's  mystic  pole, 

Then  question  thou,  "What  is  the  Soul?" 


HOPE. 

Beautiful  hope  in  the  heart  ever  springing, 
Like  a  bright  fountain  in  desert  lands  lone; 

Like  the  fond  ivy  caressingly  clinging, 
To  the  dim  ruins  of  castle  o'crthrown, 

Cling  to  me,  cling  to  me  fondly,  forever, 

Afl  the  dark  years  ever  ceaselessly  roll  ; 
Hide  thy  glad  radiance,  never,  O,  never! 
iiitiful,  beautiful  star  of  the  soul. 

Calm  and  srrcnc,  in  thy  glory  and  shimmer — 
Not  as  the  comets,  that  glare  and  depart; 

Evermore  shed  thy  bright  glitter  and  glimmer, 

Through    the  dark  gloom  of  the  night  of  the  heart 

Shed  thy  soft  brilliance  and  brightness  forever — 
Not  as  the  phantoms  that  tlax/.lc  and  flee; 

Lighting  me  still  in  the  path  of  endeavor, 
Linger,  Oh  !  linger  forever  with  me. 


Dotage.  83 


DOTAGE. 


His  faded  life  is  all  behind, 

His  step  is  faint  and  slow; 
His  voice  is  like  the  sighing  wind, 

His  hair  is  white  as  snow. 

And  like  an  infant  once  again, 

His  wondering  vision  sees 
The  earth's  wide-spreading  boundless  plain, 

With  all  its  mysteries. 

In  childish  awe  he  looks  on  life — 

Its  throbbing,  rushing  tide, 
Its  toys,  its  littleness,  its  strife, 

Its  gorgeous,  tinseled  pride. 

And  standing  on  its  darkling  shore. 
With  weak  and  trembling  eyes, 

He  babbles  like  a  babe  once  more, 
In  foolish,  fond  surprise. 

Back  from  life's  quivering  sunset  ray, 

He  turns  to  view  the  past, 
That  haunts  his  trembling,  downward  way, 

Like  shadow  backward  cast. 

Dim,  through  oblivion's  veil  he  sees 

As  through  some  mystic  haze, 
Faint  lifted  by  some  ghostly  breeze, 

The  forms  of  other  days. 

They  beckon  to  him  far  away, 

And  near  and  nearer  still , 
He  sees  them  in  the  twilight  gray, 

He  feels  their  touches  thrill. 

And  groping  'mid  the  trembling  gloom, 

For  phantoms  that  are  not, 
He  totters  downward  to  the  tomb, 

Forgetting  and  forgot. 


84  DriJal 


THE  BRIDAL  VEIL. 


Lovely  as  the  smiling  morning,  bright  as  queen  of  fairy  talc, 
As  the  stars  the  night  adorning,  in  her  mystic  bridal  veil, 
Wavering  as  the  twilight  shadow,  trembling  as  the  I  mist 

Floating  o'er  the  slumbering  meadow,  ere  by  ardent  sunshine 

kissed, 

Stands  the  lovely  dreaming  maiden,  in  her  1  vcct  and  pure, 

Innocent  as  Kvc  in  Eden,  ere  the  tempter  came  to  lure. 

Love's  bright  visions,  fond  and  tender,  all  her  pulses  sweetly  thrill, 
And  life's  mystery  veiled  in  splendor,  sleeps  before  her  soft  and  still. 
Docs  the  web  of  filmy  weaving,  o'er  life's  future  cast  a  spell, 
ic  mirage  gleam  deceiving  o'er  the  desert?     It  is  well — 
it  veils  the  coming  morrow, with  its  cares  and  sighs  and  tears, 
t  veils  the  heart's  dark  sorrow,  in  the  coming,  hidden  years. 

Tlvrc  arc  draughts  of  wormwood  bitter  for  the  sweetest  lips  to 

quaff, 
Darkness   follows   sunlight  glitter — mournful   sighs,   the   merry 

lai: 

tempting  fruits  forbidden,  gleaming  bright  on  glorious 

trees, 

Then  f  danger  hidden,  sailing  o'er  life's  mirrorc- 1 

May  no  storms  in  wrath  and  riot,  bow  in  dust  thy  maiden  pride! 
May  no  phantom  shades  unquiet,  haunt  thy  dreams,  O,  b 

bri 

Will  thy  footsteps  from  the  altar,  seek  the  smiii-  eful  isles, 

Or  thy  young  feet  faint  and  falter,  o'er  life's  dreary  desert  miles? 
Will  the  zephyrs  idly  playing,  ever  waft  thee  spicy  ball 
And  the  gentle  footsteps  straying,  rest  beneath  the  waving  palms  ? 
lie  that  watchcth,  only,  knowcth  of  thy  future;  day  or  night, 
Whitherto  thy  pathway  gneth — unto  darkness,  or  to  light. 


"Old  John  Brown:'  85 

Dream,  O,  bride!  of  rose-wreathed  arbors,  slumbering  seas,  and 

coral  strands, 

Summer  skies  and  peaceful  harbors,  in  the  far-off  tropic  lands ! 
Dream,  O,  bride !  of  love's  bark  freighted,  wafted  soft  with  silken  I 

sail; 
Dream  !  nor  haste  to  pierce  the  future,  hidden  by  the  Bridal  Veil. 


"OLD  JOHN  BROWN." 


John  Brown's  body  lies  mouldering  in  the  grave, 
But  his  soul  goes  marching  on. — Old  Refrain. 


O,  the  quivering,  shuddering  haze 
Of  those  smoke-palled,  gloomy  days  ! 
Through  the  country  up  and  down, 
Stalked  the  soul  of  "Old  John  Brown," 
Ever  "  marching  on  "  and  on, 
Shrieking,  sobbing,  sighing,  gone. 
Startling  with  its  quaint  refrain, 
Drooping  hope,  to  life  again. 

How  it  stirred  a  Nation's  heart 
With  a  pulsing,  mighty  start ! 
How  the  farmer  left  his  plow 
In  the  furrow,  half-way  through, 
As  he  heard  the  martial  strain 
Of  that  mystic  weird  refrain  ! 
How  the  workmen  left  their  tools, 
And  the  pedagogues  the  schools  !   - 
How  the  merchant  left  his  store  ! 
How  the  clerk  his  colors  bore, 
With  a  loftier,  prouder  mien 
Than  the  counter  e'er  had  seen  ! 
How  the  lawyer  left  his  brief 
To  avenge  his  country's  grief ! 


86  "Old  John  Browi." 

How  the  priest  laid  clown  the  Word 
For  the  all-convincing  sword  ! 
How  the  peaceful  Quaker  grave, 
Swift  his  country's  life  to  save, 
To  his  soul's  deep  instincts  true, 
Dropped  the  drab,  and  donned  the  blue  ! 

How  it  filled  with  quenchless  fire 
Maid  and  matron,  son  and  sire, 
Quickening  sluggish  blood  of  age 
With  a  noble,  burning  rage! 
How  the  student  ceased  to  pore 
O'er  the  past's  forgotten  lore, 
Thrilled  as  by  a  magic  spell, 
Bidding  home  and  books  farewell, 
When  the  summons  deep  and  grand 
Like  an  earthquake,  shook  the  land  ! 

How  its  echoes  throbbed  and  rang, 
When  a  million  heroes  sprang 
At  the  cannon's  awful  call, 
With  its  talc  of  Sumtcr's  fall ! 
How  it  rose,  and  sank,  and  wailed, 
Where  the  camp-fires  blazed  and  paled  ! 
How  the  swelling  anthem  pealed, 
O'er  each  battle-tented  field  ! 
How  it  cheered  the  weary  si 
Stirred  the  coward  and  the  brave — 
When  'mid  serried  hosts  of  blue, 
Thrilled  its  cadence  through  and  through 

Glory,  glory !  it  is  done  ! 
Freedom's  battle,  fought  and  won, 
I  lalk-lujah  !  not  a  scar 
Now  remains  of  hate  and  war  ! 

eful  are  our  nation's  days — 
God  of  K:;.,lK,  we  i.ive  Thee  praise  ! 


Mount  San  Bernardino.  87 


MOUNT  SAN  BERNARDINO. 


In  solemn  awe  I  gaze;  O,thou, 
That  stand's!  eternal  as  the  days ! 

Low  at  thy  lordly  feet  I  bow; 

My  feeble  tongue  shall  give  thee  praise. 

A  little  space  our  days  fulfill  ; 

Thy  strength  endures,  eternal  still ! 

Here  hast  thou  stood  and  kept  thy  trust, 

And  watched  earth's  glories  bloom  and  fade, 

Ere  Abram  laid  his  sacred  dust 

Within  Machpelah's  hallowed  shade, 

Whose  footsteps  sought  His  righteous  ways, 

And  walked  with  God  through  all  his  days ! 

Here  have  ye  watched,  O,sentried  rocks, 

Fast  by  the  everlasting  hills, 
Ere  Jacob  watched  his  father's  flocks 

By  dreamy  Midian's  murmuring  rills; 
Or  felt  love's  spring  impetuous  swell 
For  beauteous  Rachael  at  the  well ! 

The  seal  of  time  was  on  thy  heights, 

Ere  God  in  Sinai's  thunder  spoke ; 

Or  Druids  'neath  the  sacred  oak 
Performed  their  dark  mysterious  rites ; 

Ere  Persia  saw  her  conqueror  come ; 

Or  David  mourned  for  Absalom. 

Afar,  thy  glory  flashed  and  gleamed, 

Ere  rolled  proud  Rome's  triumphal  cars, 

Or  Chaldea's  shepherds  watched  and  dreamed, 
Beneath  Assyria's  shining  stars ; 

Ere  rose  in  pride  vain  Babel's  tower, 

Or  Greece  had  fame,  or  Egypt  power. 


88  Mount  San  Bernardino. 

I  It-re  gazed  thou  o'er  the  sleeping  coast, 

And  watched  the  darkling  ages  flee, 
Ere  Xerxes  led  his  glittering  host 

To  perish  at  Thermopylae; 
Ere  Freedom's  holiest  sacrifice, 
Beneath  the  glorious  Attic  skies ! 

Here  lookedst  thou  down  ere  Caesar  stood 

To  put  away  Rome's  diadem, 
And  bathed  the  marble  shaft  with  blood; 

Or  rose  the  Star  of  Bethlehem 
Like  blazoned  banner,  wide  unfurled, 
To  light  a  dark  and  sinful  world  ! 

I 1  ere  sawcst  thou  bloom  earth's  budding  Spring, 
Ere  faithless  Helen's  glorious  charms 

Enthralled  the  heart  of  prince  and  king, 

And  roused  a  world  to  wrath  and  arms; 
Or  Homer  thrilled  with  touch  of  fire 
The  sweet  strings  of  his  deathless  lyre  ! 


Ere  satraps  at  a  tyrant's  frown, 

In  terror  bent  the  slavish  knee; 
Tyre  in  purple  sat  her  down 

To  rule  the  cities  by  the  sea; 
Thou  watch'dst  with  calm  and  peaceful  brow, 
O'er  the  soft  landscape  e'en  as  now. 

\Yhcn  sinks  our  day  in  dreamless  night, 
And  stills  each  throb  of  joy  or  pain, 

Will  others  gaze  upon  thy  height, 

And  others  dream  their  dreams  as  vain, 

To  fade  as  figures  traced  in  sand 

On  ocean's  beach;  but  thou  shalt  stand! 


Dreams  of  Youth.  89 

Here  shalt  thou  stand  with  moveless  eyes, 
And  watch  as  thou  hast  watched  alway, 

Through  the  soft  depths  of  summer  skies, 
Earth's  kingdoms  crumble  and  decay ; 

As  murmuring,  wandering  zephyrs  we, 

To  sigh  and  pass,  and  cease  to  be! 

When  all  our  works  have  disappeared, 
Our  dreams  of  glory,  pride  and  lust, 

When  all  that  puny  man  hath  reared, 
Has  crumbled  in  forgotten  dust, 

Still  shalt  thou  mark  the  flight  of  time 

Immovable,  in  strength  sublime  ! 


DREAMS  OF  YOUTH. 


O,  the  gleams  of  fields  elysian, 
O,  the  dreams  of  happy  youth  ! 

Bright  as  Eden's  glorious  vision, 
In  its  trustful  love  and  truth ! 

When  the  earth  was  bright  with  glory; 

Ere  the  years  with  care  were  hoary — 

O,  the  heart's  sweet,  tender  story, 
Trustful  in  its  love  and  truth  ! 

O,  the  glory  and  the  glitter, 
O,  the  sunshine  and  the  gold  ! 

Ere  life's  cup  was  dashed  with  bitter, 
Ere  the  heart  grew  hard  and  cold ; 

Proud  in  flush  of  strength  unaided, 

Ere  dark  clouds  the  skies  o'crshaded ; 

Ere  the  bloom  of  springtime  faded, 
Ere  its  tale  of  hope  was  told. 


90  "  Nci-c  niton ." 


Hopes  may  dawn,  and  hopes  may  perish, 
Stars  may  ri^e,  and  stars  may  set. 

Treasures  vanisli  that  we  cherish. 
But  the  heart  may  ne'er  forget — 

youth's  tender  dreaming, 

Hope's  bright  beckoning  mirage  gleaming, 

Not  'mid  all  ambition's  scheming, 
May  the  yearning  soul  forget ! 


NEVERMORE" 


When  the  twilight  shades  arc  falling, 
All  the  senses  soft  enthralling, 
Comes  a  mystic  whisper  calling, 

Thrilling  through  my  spirit's  core ; 
Sad  and  'plaining,  ne'er  increasing, 
Ne'er  its  ghostly  spell  releasing. 
With  a  monotone  unceasing, 

Ceaseless  whispering,  "Nevermore!" 
"Nevermore !" 

KVCT  at  the  hour  of  vesper, 

When  the  air  grows  crisp  and  crispcr, 

Ask  I  of  this  phantom  whisper: 

'"Tell  me  truly,  I  implore — 
Shall  I  not  in  more  than  seeming, 
Realize  my  soul's  fond  dreaming — 
All  my  youth's  bright  visions  gleaming  ?"- 
Sad  the  whisper,  "Nevermore!" 
"Nevermore  !" 

When  sleep's  mystic  folds  encircle, 
And  the  night-shades  pall  and  darkle, 
And  the  planets  blaze  and  sparkle, 

Comes  the  whisper  'round  my  door, 


To  a  Butterfly. 

Soft  and  low  as  zephyr  sighing, 
Sad  as  love's  sweet  cadence  dying 
O'er  the  grave  of  hope  low  lying — 
Whispers  sadly,  "Nevermore!" 
"Nevermore  !" 

Still  forever  weirdly  haunting, 
With  a  spell  the  spirit  daunting, 
Ever  comes  that  mystic  chaunting 

Low  and  dirge-like  o'er  and  o'er; 
And  when  night-winds  sigh  and  shiver, 
And  the  moonbeams  dance  and  quiver 
On  the  mirror  of  the  river, 

Whispers  ever,  "Nevermore!" 
"Nevermore !" 

Ever  when  my  life  is  dreary, 
And  my  heart  is  sad  and  weary, 
Ask  I  o£this  phantom  eerie  : 

"Cease  to  mock  me,  I  implore  !" 
Still  it  haunts  me  with  its  crooning — 
Not  for  all  my  importuning, 
Will  it  cease  its  mystic  runing — 

Still  it  whispers,  "Nevermore  !" 
"Nevermore  !" 


TO  A  BUTTERFLY. 


Gaudy  triflcr  of  an  hour, 
Drifting  on  from  flower  to  flower; 
Clinging  to  fond  nectar  lips, 
Tasting  but  with  instant  sips, 
Leaving  sweets  for  fresher  sweets, 
As  the  truant  lover  greets; 
Still  inconstant,  never  true 
To  the  lips  thy  kisses  woo, 
Frail  thy  life  as  frail  thy  vow, 
Type  of  passing  glory,  thou  ! 


92  Song  of  Sighs. 


Foolish,  fluttering,  gilded  thing, 
Born  of  kisses  of  the  spring; 
Spirit  borne  on  breath  of  balm, 
Wafted  through  the  dreamy  calm; 
When  the  summer  smiles  no  more, 
Soon  thy  triumphs  shrill  be  o'er, 
And  thy  gilded  life  shall  pass 
As  the  shadow  o'er  the  glass. 
Evanescence  is  thy  dower, 
Gilded  trifler  of  an  hour! 
Soon  shall  pale  thy  gorgeous  gleam, 
Like  a  swiftly  fading  dream. 


SONG  OF  SIGHS. 


Roses  are  fading  and  passing  away, 
Twilight,  dark  shading,  shall  veil* the  bright  da}-, 
Youth's  transient  glory  dissolve  as  a  dream — 
After  the  summer  the  winter  holds  sway. 

Bright  is  sweet  springtime,  and  swift  arc  her  feet, 
Glancing  and  fleeting,  and  summer  is  sweet; 

Grateful  the  haze  of  the  autumn's  soft  gleam, 
After  the  days  of  the  harvest  and  heat. 

Fair  is  bright  youth,  with  its  myrtle-twined  wreath, 
Sweet  the  perfume  of  the  summer-time's  ! 

Pleading  and  plaintive  the  autumn's  low  M';;!I — 
After  the  autumn  is  winter  and  death. 

Sad  sigh  the  zephyrs,  despairing  and  low, 
Mute  the  procession,  and  solemn  and  slow; 
All  the  sweet  flowers  must  wither  and  lie- 
Under  the  pall  and  chill  of  the  snow. 

after  winter  has  ended  his  reign, 

:id  dewdrops  shall  deck  all  the  plain, 
Swift  when  the  footsteps  of  April  arc  nigh, 
Bursting  in  ;;lory  and  splendor  again. 


The  Song  of  t/tc  Queen. 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  OUEEN. 


93 


On  my  golden  throne,  I  rule  alone, 

With  a  magic  spell  complete; 
And  my  subjects  sing,  and  their  treasures  bring 

To  lay  them  at  my  feet, 
O,  never  a  queen,  'mid  such  tender  sheen, 

Dreamed  ever  a  dream  so  sweet ! 

My  armies  spread  o'er  the  valley's  bed, 
O'er  the  mountain's  shimmering  side; 

They  come  and  go,  like  the  ebb  and  flow 
Of  the  ocean's  ceaseless  tide ; 

And  toiling  sing,  as  their  way  they  wing, 
O'er  my  flowery  kingdom  wide. 

With  a  flash  and  gleam,  in  the  morn's  soft  beam, 

They  go  to  the  fields  afar, 
Where  the  Yucca  bright,  in  her  robe  of  white, 

Soft  beckons  like  a  star; 
Nor  toil,  nor  heat,  from  the  nectar  sweet, 

May  ever  my  hosts  debar. 

O,  the  proudest  queen,  that  was  ever  seen, 

On  my  happy  throne  am  I  ! 
For  me,  my  hosts  search  the  flowery  coasts, 

And  scale  the  mountains  high; 
And  sing  and  toil,  with  a  sweet  turmoil, 

For  me  they  live  and  die. 

O,  sweeter  bliss  than  Scmiramis 

Knew  ever,  have  I,  I  ween ; 
Nor  so  proud  a  power,  in  her  grandest  hour, 

Had  ever  Palmyra's  queen 
To  rule  all  hearts;  or  such  ready  darts 

To  guard  with  their  lances  keen. 


94  Swig  of  //w  Sabre. 

I  sip  and  cat  of  each  priceless  sweet, 

The  gift  of  the  flowery  zone; 
No  empl  md,  of  an  Orient  land, 

So  firm  on  her  golden  throne ; 
In  my  waxen  cell,  adored,  I  dwell. 

And  rule  by  love  alone  ! 


SONG  OF  THE  SABRE. 


Jangle  and  cla.-h, 

Glitter  and  Hash, 
Hear  the  sharp  voice  of  the  keen  steel  ringing! 

Tremble  and  sink, 

Shudder  and  shrink; 
List  to  the  song  of  the  sabre,  singing* 

"Clatter  and  clink- 
Blood  is  my  drink, 

Give  me  to  cat  of  the  flesh  that  quivers — 
Sate  me  with  gore; 
Give  me  some  more — 

Pour  it  in  streams  as  the  floods  of  rivers. 

"Circle  and  flash, 

Thunder  and  crash, 
Sudden  and  fell  as  the  bolt  of  thunder; 

Quiver  and  leap, 

Shiver  and  sweep, 
Cleaving  the  ranks  of  the  foe  asunder. 

"  Bright  as  a  dream, 

Glitter  and  gleam, 
When  the  rent  ranks  in  defeat  arc  flying; 

Circle  and  sweep, 

Quiver  and  leap 
Over  the  forms  of  the  dead  and  dying.' 


Riverside.  95 


RIVERSIDE. 


Soft  veiled  in  splendor,  like  some  jeweled  bride, 
Far  gazing  down  the  future,  dim  and  wide, 
A  glorious  vision  of  enchantment  gleams, 
And  lo  !   before  us,  queenly  Riverside. 

Bright  in  the  flush  of  balmy  southern  skies, 
Clothed  in  her  robes  of  gorgeous  Tyrian  dyes, 

She  sits  upon  her  purple  mountain  throne, 
A  dream  of  glory  in  her  tender  eyes. 

What  geni  here  hath  waved  his  magic  wand 
Above  the  silence  of  a  lonely  land  ? 

Lo  !  spreading  far  beyond  the  vision's  sweep, 
The  wealth  of  green  and  gold  on  every  hand  ! 

Not  from  their  snow-crowned,  shivering  Alpine  posts, 
Down  gazing  on  the  soft  Italian  coasts, 

On  fairer  land  oft  bright  entrancing  bloom, 
In  longing,  gazed  the  Carthaginian  hosts. 

Oh,  not  beside  the  storied,  castled  Rhine, 
Such  home  of  plenty  hath  the  trailing  vine, 

Low-bending  'neath  its  clustering  burdens  sweet, 
To  lure  the  weary  wanderer's  feet,  as  thine. 

Not  where  Sorrento's  golden  glories  gleam, 
Or  soft  Sicilia's  dark-eyed  daughters  dream, 

Beneath  the  shade  of  slumbering  Etna's  bowers, 
Spread  fairer  groves,  beside  a  brighter  stream. 

Upspringing  thickly  from  the  sleeping  plain, 
As  sprang  the  hosts  from  proud  Minerva's  brain, 

In  marshaled  ranks,  dim  fading  'ncath  the  gaze, 
Thy  golden  glories  gleam — a  fairy  train. 


90"  Riverside. 

Not  in  time's  early,  dim,  uncertain  shade, 
When  freedom's  light  blazed  instant  but  to  fade 

And  perish  'mid  the  deep  Cimmerian  gloom, 
The  firm  foundations  of  thy  strength  were  laid. 

No  wolf-nursed  robbers  on  thy  virgin  soil, 
With  stores  of  treasv.rc  wrung  from  honest  toil, 

Within  thy  shelter  kept  their  early  lair, 
To  gorge  and  fatten  on  their  bloody  spoil. 

captives  torn  from  rapine-wasted  lands, 
To  feed  the  lust  of  lawless  robber-bands, 

Have  helped  to  swell  thy  pulsing  tides  of  life, 
Nor  stain  of  blood  is  on  thy  conqueror-hands. 

Not  as  the  olden,  grim  Conquistadors, 

With  sword  and  flame  thy  conquerors  sought  thy  shores 

To  wring  unwilling,  through  the  weary  years, 
The  sweat  and  blood  of  ages  from  thy  pores. 

Lone  deserts  made  to  blossom  as  the  rose, 
I  !<  spcrian  fruits  and  bowers  of  soft  rcp< 

Perpetual  clothed  in  robes  of  emerald  shi 
These  arc  the  triumphs  that  thy  years  disclose. 

No  fever-laden,  damp,  malarial  air 

Creeps  through  the  tresses  of  thy  golden  hair, 

Nor  scaly  monsters  waiting  for  their  prey 
Within  thy  leafy  coverts  make  their  lair. 

Queen-ruler  proud,  beneath  the  burni.-hcd  h! 
Of  lordly,  rapt  San  Bernardino's  ga     , 

Thou  rcstest  sweet  beneath  his  sheltering  love, 
And  drcamcst  of  the  fruits  of  coining  days. 

No  piles  of  marble  moulder  in  decay 

In  tottering  swoon,  along  thy  Appian  Way;* 

Nor  in  sad  mockery  of  thy  fallen  pride, 
Through  kingly  courts  thy  beggar-princes  stray. 


•Magnolia   Avenue,  a   magnificent   drive,    no   feet    in    width,   extruding    in    a   straight   line 
,-cral  miles  parallel  with  the  river  and  through  the  heart  of  the  settlement. 


Dirge.  97 

Lo  !  more  eternal  than  the  boasts  of  Rome, 
Her  piles  of  marble,  or  St.  Peter's  dome, 

Thy  everlasting  watch-towers  looming  o'er 
To  guard  the  treasures  of  thy  fairy  home. 

Groves,  fairy-bowers  extending  far  and  wide, 
Where  knowledge,  virtue,  wander  side  by  side, 

Schools,  churches  pointing  heavenward  with  their  spires, 
These  are  the  jewels  of  thy  conscious  pride. 

Still  keep,  O,  Queen  !  from  strife  and  fierce  turmoil 
Thy  eager  children ;  let  no  lust  for  spoil 

Their  ways  divide;  give  merit  justest  meed, 
And  honor  Labor's  earnest,  honest  toil. 

So  shalt  thou,  changeless  as  thy  glorious  clime, 
Go  on,  and  onward  in  thy  march  sublime, 

A  sccptered  Queen,  unrivaled,  golden-crowned, 
Conquering  and  still  to  conquer  through  all  time. 


DIRGE. 

Close  the  dreamless  eyes  that  stare 
With  their  vacant,  rayless  glare; 
They  are  free  from  pain  and  care. 

Lowly,  gently  o'er  him  bow, 
Smooth  the  hair  upon  his  brow; 
He  is  resting,  sleeping  now. 

Cross  the  hands  upon  the  breast, 
Let  the  weary  fingers  rest 
Idle  now;  so,  it  were  best, 

Resting  from  earth's  ceaseless  wear, 
Resting  from  their  weary  care, 
In  the  cold,  white  stillness  there. 


98  Decoration  Poem. 

Passed  away  life's  fleeting  sands, 
Bear  the  clay  with  reverent  hands, 
Resting  far  in  stranger 


Breathe  a  prayer  to  Him  to  save 
While  the  funeral  banners  wave, 
Bear  him  gently  to  the  gra  . 

Softly,  gently,  lay  him  low, 
Circling  sadly,  come  and  go, 
In,  the  spray  of  cypress  throw. 

In  Thy  love,  O,  God  !  we  trust  ; 
Here  we  lay  thee  with  the  just  — 
"Earth  to  earth,  and  dust  to  dust." 


DECORATION  POEM. 


[V.'ritten  for  Frank  Bartlctt  Post,  G.  A.  R.,  Los  Angeles,  and  read  by  Prof.   S.  II. 
Butterfield,  May  30,  1880.] 

Over  the  shrines  where  our  heroes  repose, 

Sweet  in  the  breath  of  the  balm-laden  May, 
Strew  we  the  garlands  of  lily  and  rose, 

Wreathe  we  their  tombs  with  the  evergreen  spray; 
Over  each  relic  of  patriot  clay, 

Thrilling  no  more  'mid  the  battle's  fierce  thr 
Thankfully,  tearfully,  bend  we  to-day, 

Strewing  our  garlands  of  myrtle  and  n 

Gone  is  the  glitter  of  war  as  a  dream- 
Armies  that  stood  in  the  strength  of  their  pride, 
Flashing  of  sabre  and  bayonet  gleam, 

Melted  the  legions  that  clanger  defied, 
Staid  the  red  torrent  that  swept  with  full  ti< 

Onward  to  death  with  the  turbulent  stream- 
War  with  its  woe  and  its  wreck  and  its  pride, 
Gone  as  the  mirage  that  mocks  with  iN  gleam. 


Decoration  Poem.  99 

Not  for  the  true  hearts  at  rest  may  we  grieve — 

Heroes  immortal  in  glory's  last  sleep — 
Proudly  we  smile  as  the  garlands  we  weave, 

Even  in  triumph  give  thanks  as  we  weep. 
Calm  be  your  slumber,  and  quiet  and  deep, 

Perfect  your  rest  as  the  ages  may  give, 
Soft  be  your  pillows  and  sweet  be  your  sleep, 

Soldiers  who  died  that  a  nation  might  live. 

Hither  the  feet  of  our  children  shall  turn, 

Long  as  the  star-blazoned  banner  shall  wave; 
Hence,  from  these  precincts  of  holiness  spurn 

Sternly,  forever,  the  dastard  and  slave. 
Pride  of  proud  Liberty,  peerless  as  brave, 

Long  as  the  passionless  planets  shall  burn, 
Still  shall  a  nation  ye  perished  to  save 

Cherish  your  ashes  in  Freedom's  grand  urn. 

Here  shall  your  comrades  with  reverent  tread 

Evermore  turn  in  unselfishness  true, 
Guarding  forever  the  nation's  proud  dead, 

Still  wave  the  folds  of  the  Red,  White  and  Blue. 
Soft  fall  the  glitter  of  starlight  and  dew 

Over  each  slumbering  hero's  lone  bed  ; 
Soft  be  the  quiver  and  tender  the  hue 

Veiling  the  eyes  that  their  offerings  shed. 

Hushed  is  the  thunder  of  mortar  and  gun, 

Shrieking  of  schrapnel  and  whistle  of  ball ; 
Peace  gilds  the  land  with  her  life-giving  sun, 

Shedding  her  glory  and  splendor  o'er  all. 
Gone  is  the  gloom  of  the  war's  awful  pall ; 

Resting  in  peace  when  the  battle  is  done, 
Sleep,  soldiers,  sleep  till  the  last  bugle  call; 

Sweet  be  your  sleep  after  victory  won. 


IUNI7ERS1TTJ 

v*v 


loo  In  Los  Angeles    Valley. 


IN  LOS  ANGF.LKS  VALLEY. 


O,  glorious  gem  !  rare  jewel  set 

Upon  earth's  bosom!   I  would  sing, 
Had  I  the  gift,  in  measures  yd 

Undreamed  by  poet-king, 
Till  pilgrims  to  the  worn-out  lands 

And  musty  shrines  beyond  the 
Should  hither  turn  with  outstretched  hands, 

And  songs,  to  worship  thee. 

They  tell  us  of  the  Fatherland— 

In  legends  wild,  of  storied  Rhine; 
Of  fairy  bowers,  in  Kastern  land, 

And  scenes  almost  divine. 
They  tell  us  of  the  groves  of  Spain, 

The,-  Pyrenees,  the  peasant  dance, 
The  vineyards  of  thy  fair  Champagne 

O,  land  of  sunny  France ! 
They  tell  us  of  Italian  skies, 

And  moonlit  seas,  where  Naples  stands — 
O,  beauteous  vale  !  thy  gifts  comprise 

The  glories  of  all  lands. 

Tis  noontide,  and  the  sun's  fierce  blaze 
Is  mellowed  in  the  dreamy  h 
A  mirage,  like  a  bridal  veil, 
Hangs  trembling  over  hill  and  dale. 
I.eyond,  when,-  purple  vineyards  swell, 
The  mountains  of  San  Gabriel 
Loom  like  gigantic  spectres  dim, 
To  guard  the  valley's  outer  rim, 
Like  sentinels  of  the  most  High, 
Or  souls  of  patriots  when  they  die, 
Still  guard  the  land  they  love  so  well, 


In  Los  Angeles   Valley.  IOI 

All  hallowed  by  their  mystic  spell; 
Around  their  towering-  summits  high, 
Where  silence  reigns,  the  tender  sky 
Bends  low  to  kiss  the  whispering  pines, 
And  look  upon  their  golden  mines. 

Around  us  like  a  giant  band, 

The  everlasting  mountains  stand; 

In  crescent  grand  they  stretch  away, 

Like  armies  set  in  war's  array, 

With  flanks,  far  reaching,  black  as  night, 

To  battle  with  the  sea's  vast  might; 

As  grim  and  rugged  as  the  day, 

When  anchored  in  San  Pedro's  bay 

The  conquerors  of  Spain  unfurled 

Their  banner  o'er  the  western  world  ; 

As  wild  and  free  the  billows  toss 

As  when  they  came,  with  Sword  and  Cross, 

The  limbs  of  heathen  to  enslave, 

The  souls  of  pagan  men  to  save. 

*         *         *         *         *         *         # 

A  hundred  years  have  come  and  gone, 
The  mountains  stand,  the  seas  roll  on; 
A  century  with  its  dust  and  moss, 
Hath  gathered  over  Priest  and  Cross ; 
And  all  who  crossed  the  stormy  main, 
And  wandered  far  from  sunny  Spain, 
Long  since  have  rendered  up  their  trust- 
Earth  sleeps  with  earth,  and  dust,  with  dust. 
As  sweet  and  far,  at  evening,  swells 
The  music  of  the  Mission  bells, 
As  when  the  holy  fathers  trod 
First  in  their  sound,  and  bowed  to  God. 


Tremendous  wall  by  earthquakes  riven 
Seas  kiss  thy  feet;  thy  head  in  heaven 
Looks  far  below,  on  cloud,  and  mist, 


IO2  In  Los  Angeles    Valley. 

Looks  far  around,  on  fair  fields  kissed 
By  every  breeze,  at  night  and  morn 
Across  the  far  Pacific  borne, 
From  isles  where  spicy  breezes  blow, 
From  lands  that  never  winter  know; 
Looks  down  where  fair  Azusa  smiles, 
Looks  on  El  Montc's  willowy  miles, 
And  on  San  Gabriel's  fragrant  grove — 
Looks  with  a  lingering,  longing  love. 
And  far  toward  the  ocean  strand, 
The  Egypt  of  the  southern  land, 
Lo  !  Ceres  from  her  golden  horn 
Has  emptied  all  her  store  of  corn 
On  Los  Nictos,  favored  spot, 
And  corn,  and  horn,  alike  forgot. 

And  farther  still  toward  tropic  clime, 
Looks  down  on  lovely  Anaheim, 

•  lircr  scene,  by  rainbow  spanned, 
Or  sweeter  grapes  hath  Fatherland. 
Here  plenty  dwells;  and  mirth  and  wine 
Are  mingled  with  the  songs  of  Rhine, 

•;d  silver}-  patriarchs  recline 
Beneath  the  olive  and  the  vine; 
Looks  far  where  slumbering  seas  beguile, 
To  where  lone  Catalina's  Isle 

:n  main  the  narrow  seas  divide; 
While  o'er  the  intervening  tide 
White  sails  with  pleasure-seekers  go, 

1  fishermen  ply  to  and  fro. 


Los  Angeles,  like  some  fair  queen, 

The  central  figure  in  the  scene, 

Sits  bride-like  in  her  dreamy  bowers, 

All  crowned  with  wreaths  of  orange  flowers, 

And  all  the  sweets  that  earth  can  know, 


Cusler.  103 

To  make  a  Paradise  below. 
Anon,  her  lap  with  fruit  o'erflows, 
The  citron  gleams,  the  orange  glows; 
She  smiles  when  limes  with  olives  blend^ 
And  blushes  red  when  vineyards  bend 
All  heavy  laden  with  the  store 
Of  luscious  fruit  her  bosom  bore. 

Land  of  the  olive  and  the  vine ! 

Whose  feet  the  mighty  waters  lave, 
Where  day's  last  rosy  rays  decline 

Upon  the  sunset  wave ; 
Land  of  soft  breeze  and  azure  skies, 

In  matchless  beauty,  lo,  she  stands ! 
O,  beauteous  vale  !  thy  gifts  comprise 

The  glories  of  all  lands. 


CUSTER. 


[Written  upon  the  massacre  of  Custer  and  his  gallant  band.] 

Bold  knight  of  sword  and  pen ! 

Bright  spirit  quickly  fled! 
Brave  leader  of  brave  men — 
Contending  one  to  ten — 

Rest  in  thy  gory  bed. 

Thy  star  has  set  in  night, 
Its  dazzling  radiance  flown  ; 

But  not  more  full  nor  bright 

O'er  Balaklava's  height 

Fame's  star  immortal  shone. 

As  comet  swift  you  came, 

And  fled  as  bright  and  fast; 

Long  as  the  stars  shall  flame, 

Or  men  shall  dream  of  fame, 

Shall  glory  chant  thy  name, 

With  heroes  of  the  past 


IO4  The  Maiden. 


THE  MAIDEN. 


Her  smile  was  like  the  morning  light, 

Her  life  was  like  a  clrcam; 
As  gently  shone  her  spirit  bright, 

As  moonlight  on  the  stream, 
When  hushed  to  rest,  the  sighing  night 

Sleeps  in  the  mellow  gleam. 

Her  raiment  flowed  in  sweet  release — 

As  gracious  all  her  ways, 
As  full  of  promise  of  sweet  peace, 

As  glorious  summer  days, 
Of  ripened,  fruitful,  full  increase, 

In  autumn's  mellow  haze. 

Her  sontq:  was  like  the  linnet's  trill, 

Her  voice  was  soft  and  low ; 
Her  touch  was  like  the  zephyr's  thrill, 

That  lingers,  loth  to  go; 
Her  thoughts,  like  some  pure  crystal  rill, 

Welled  soft  in  murmurous  flow. 

Her  laugh  was  like  the  silvery  gush 
Of  some  sweet  fountain's  rune; 

Her  lips  were  like  the  crimson  flush 
Of  cherries  ripe  in  June; 

Her  cheeks  were  dyed  with  Xature's  blush- 
Twin  roses  in  attune. 

In  fickle  Folly's  arts  unskilled, 
UnspoiU-d  by  Fashion's  whim, 

Her  sparkling  cup  of  life  \vas  filled 
With  sweetness  to  the  brim — 

!,  and  sweetly  willed, 
I  ier  life  was  like  a  hymn. 


Egyptia.  105 


EGYPTIA. 


[Written  upon  reception  of  news  of  the  bombardment  of  Alexandria.] 

Spell-bound  Queen,  will  nothing  wake  thcc — 

Thrill  with  fire  thy  languid  mien  ? 
Must  rude  strangers  roughly  shake  thee  ? 

Shame  upon  thee,  slothful  Queen! 

Rouse,  O,  Egypt  !  now  or  never, 
Strike  the  blow  that  sets  thee  free; 

Gird  thee  for  the  high  endeavor — 
Resurrection !  liberty ! 

Where  beside  thy  sacred  river, 

Lotos  and  papyrus  laves, 
Must  thy  pyramids  forever 

Look  upon  a  land  of  slaves  ? 

Do  but  fear  and  slavish  wonder 
Thrill  thy  long  down-trodden  sons, 

At  the  echo  of  the  thunder 
Of  the  mighty  English  guns  ? 

Wilt  thou  rouse  to  meet  thy  danger 

With  a  proud,  heroic  mien  ? 
Or  with  kisses  greet  the  stranger, 

As  thy  wanton,  harlot  Queen 

Welcomed  Rome's  all-conquering  legions, 

Purple-clothed,  with  siren-guile, 
To  the  soft  voluptuous  regions 

Of  the  soul-enthralling  Nile  ? 

Aliens  reap  the  harvests  growing 

O'er  thy  fair  domains  outspread, 
And  'mid  plenty  overflowing, 

Lo!  thy  children  beg  for  bread  ! 


io6  ,v/i7. 

Looks  thy  stony  Sphynx  in  sadness, 
In  stern,  lip-scaled,  mute  amaze, 

On  thy  sloth  and  crime  and  madness 
With  his  cold,  reproachful  gaze; 

On  thy  Sodom-like  pollution 
With  a  scorn  he  may  not  speak, 

Hiding  time's  slow  revolution, 
Waiting  for  thy  spell  to  break. 

Art  thou  lost  to  all  salvation 
Groveling  in  thy  filth  and  lust  ? 

Lo!  thy  harlot  degradation 

Quickens  e'en  thy  mummied  du^t  1 

Shades  of  Apis  and  of  Isis, 

Thrilling  with  electric  fires, 
Of  Scsostris  and  Cambyses — 
All  thy  glorious  warrior  sires 

Rise  to  threaten  and  upbraid  thee 
By  thy  sacred  river's  shore, 

For  the  sins  that  low  degrade  thee — 
Wake,  O,  dreamer,  sleep  no  more  ! 

Hollow-eyed  and  sad  and  solemn, 
Lo  !  the  hoary  centuries  gaze 

Down  from  pyramid  and  column, 
On  thy  foul,  dishonored  days. 

Lo  !  the  floods  of  battle  gory, 
Threaten  swift  thy  sighing  vale; 

Bursts  upon  thy  ruins  hoary, 
Fierce  the  storm  of  iron  hail  1 

List!  the  tread  of  armies  shaking! 

Dreamy  indolence  forsake! 
In  the  cast  the  day  is  breaking — 

Rouse!  O,  Egypt,  and  awake  1 


Decoration  Poem*  107 


DECORATION  POEM. 


[Written  for  Frank  Bartlett  Post,  G.  A.  R.,  on  the  occasion  of  their  Annual 
Ceremonial,  May  soth,  1882.       Read  by  S.  H.  Butterfield.] 


Once  more  to  Freedom's  sacred  shrine 
We  come,  in  serried,  solemn  line, 

To  friendship's  memory  true; 
Once  more  beneath  the  skies  of  May, 
We  come  in  tearful,  hushed  array, 
To  deck  each  comrade's  peaceful  clay 

With  rose,  and  violet  blue. 

Sleep  on  !  by  peaceful  zephyrs  fanned, 
Soft  hush  o'er  all  the  slumbrous  land, 

Illumed  by  glory's  rays  ; 
War's  wrathful  storm  of  death  is  o'er, 
The  bugle  calls  to  arms  no  more, 
One  banner  waves  from  shore  to  shore, 

With  clustering  stars  ablaze. 

When  Sumter's  thunders  throbbed  and  thrilled, 
And  nerved  each  soldier,  iron-willed, 

For  Freedom's  holy  fight — 
When  called  the  drum's  deep-stirring  roll, 
True  as  the  needle  to  the  pole, 
Each  noble,  ardent,  patriot  soul 

Turned  toward  its  beacon  light 

By  every  murmuring  stream  ye  sleep ! 
On  every  fortressed,  frowning  steep, 

On  every  battle-plain ; 
In  every  vale,  in  every  land, 
From  broad  Potomac's  silvery  strand 
To  sighing,  sun-kissed  Rio  Grande, 

Your  blood  was  shed  like  rain. 


IO8  Decoration  Poem. 

Thick,  as  the  fallen  autumn  leaves, 
Or  ripened  harvest's  golden  sheaves, 

Beneath  the  summer  skies, 
Ye  rest  in  sunshine,  and  in  shade, 
In  deadly  swamp  and  everglade, 
Upon  your  country's  altar  laid — 
r  vain  the  sacrifice. 

1  is  the  camp-fire's  boding  blaze, 
Fled  death's  dark,  gloomy,  bloody  days. 

Hate's  battle  pennons  furled  ; 
The  heat  of  conflict  passed  away, 

1  side  by  side,  the  Blue  and  Gray 
Together  stand  again  to-day, 
:inst  a  hostile  world. 

Still  waves  our  banner  broad  and  bright 
O'er  every  vale,  o'er  every  height — 

Forever  Freedom's  shield; 
And  brighter,  thicker,  year  by  year, 
Its  constellated  stars  appear, 
And  deeper  still,  the  azure  clear 

Upon  its  glorious  field. 

Indissoluble  as  the  sun, 

In  peace  and  war,  in  purpose  one, 

In  Union  firm  and  grand; 
We  stand  to-day  a  people  free, 
United  for  all  time  to  be, 
One  flag,  one  heart,  from  sea  to  sea — 

1'roiid   Freedom's  pccrUss  land. 

O,  not  till  Freedom's  sun  hath  set 
Shall  patriot  IK  arts  and  hands  forget 

Their  tribute  to  r<  n 
Forever  past  the  toil  and  heat, 
Where  storms  no  more  of  battle  beat, 
'Ncath  laurel  wreath,  and  garland  s\ 
;,  Coinr-idr-  of  the  I>luc! 


Mississippi.  i  og 


MISSISSIPPI. 


Let  Germans  sing,  "The  German  Rhine," 
Its  castled  shores  and  wealth  of  vine, 
Its  crystal  tide,  its  ruby  wine, 

But  ever  give  to  me 
The  Mississippi's  mighty  sweep,     . 
A  Nation's  heart-throb  pulsing  deep, ' 
Swift-springing  far  with  lion-leap 

Upon  the  Southern  sea. 

From  Minnesota's  flashing  snows, 

Through  western  gleams,  and  southern  glows. 

Thy  floods  sweep  downward  to  repose 

Where  tropic  zephyrs  sleep ; 
Born  in  the  shade  of  northern  pines, 
O,  mighty  flood  !  a  thousand  Rhines 
Are  blended  in  thy  vast  confines 

In  one  resistless  sweep. 

O,  Mississippi !   proud  and  free  ! 
Swift-pulsing  flood  of  Liberty  ! 
Bride  of  the  isle-gemmed  tropic  sea, 

Still  chainless  be  thy  tide  ! 
Thy  mighty  flood  still  downward  pour, 
Upon  the  smiling  tropic  shore, 
Roll  on,  roll  on  forevermore, 

A  mighty  Nation's  pride  ! 

Hushed  arc  the  vengeful  blasts  that  pealed ; 
Thy  wounds,  the  balm  of  Peace  hath  healed  ; 
War's  deadly  discords  sullen  yield 

Unto  thy  magic  swayi 
The  echoes  of  the  cannon's  roar, 
Have  died  away  upon  thy  shore, 
And  strife  and  tumult  vex  no  more 

Thy  glorious,  queenly  way. 


1 10  Miserere  Doinine. 

Let  but  a  puny  despot  dream 

To  fetter-bind  thy  glorious  stream, 

A  million  swords  shall  flash  and  gleam, 

A  million  Freemen  leap  ; 
Grand  in  thy  freedom!  unconfincd, 
Free  as  the  rushing  chainlcss  wind, 
No  tyrant-wile  nor  might  may  bind 

Thy  strength's  resistless  sweep. 

Gem  of  the  World  !  Queen  of  the  West 
The  fleets  of  Empire  kiss  thy  breast ! 
The  fair,  proud,  purple  cities  rest 

Beside  thy  smiling  shore  ; 
Roll  on,  roll  on,  O,  peerless  tide ! 
An  Empire  grand  on  cither  side, 
Pearl  of  a  mighty  Nation's  pride, 

Roll  on  forevcrmorc  ! 


MISERERE  DOMINK. 

Mercy,  Master,  King  of  all, 
On  Thy  mighty  name  we  call ; 
Thou  by  saints  and  sinners  praised. 
Hear  our  fainting  voices  raised, 
Like  the  drowning  sailors'  cry, 
"Help  us,  Master,  or  we  die  !  " 
Wafted  o'er  the  moaning  sea, 
"Miserere  Dominc." 

When  the  summer  day  is  gone, 
And  the  darkness  comcth  on, 
Leave  us  not  to  shrink  afraid, 
From  the  night's  deep  silent  shade. 
Thou  that  rulcst  in  the  skies, 
Hear  our  feeble  prayers  and  sighs, 
Wh(  ;i  the  day's  last  footsteps  flee, 
Dominc." 


Snow- Storm  in  the  Sierra.  \  1 1 

Gracious  King  of  Heaven,  Most  High  ! 
Hear  thy  erring  children's  cry, 
Cheer  us  with  thy  pitying  smiles, 
Keep  us  from  the  tempter's  wiles ; 
Still  to  sin  and  error  prone, 
Guard  us  ever,  as  thine  own ; 
Thou  that  rulest  earth  and  air. 
Have  us  in  thy  holy  care; 
Save  us  through  eternity, 
"Miserere  Dominc." 


SNOW-STORM  IN  THE  SIERRA. 


What  fearful,  mystic,  boding  signs  ! 
How  the  wind  sobs  amongst  the  pines  ! 
Like  some  sad,  sorrowing  soul  in  pain — 
Then  sinks  in  fitful  sighs  again, 
Or  lulls  to  ghastly  silence  deep, 
As  broods  o'er  death's  eternal  sleep; 
How  like  a  death-pall  overhead, 
The  sky  with  leaden  hue  o'erspread  ! 
Sound,  sight,  and  silence,  omens  all, 
Well  might  the  stoutest  heart  appall, 
And  still  the  life-blood's  pulsing  flow — 
Presaging  danger,  wrath  and  woe ! 

As  autumn  leaves  in  eddying  flight, 

Down  fall  the  feathery  flakes  of  white, 

As  countless  as  the  grains  of  sand 

That  strew  the  ocean's  boundless  strand; 

As  thick  as  fell  the  Parthian  hail 

On  Crassus'  Roman  legions'  mail. 

Woe,  woe  to  him  whose  strength  may  fail, 

Or  footsteps  tarry  on  the  trail  ; 

With  wreaths  of  white  it  strews  his  way 

As  if  his  weary  feet  to  stay, 

Soft  as  the  maiden's  loosened  coils, 

But  deadly  as  Medusa's  toils. 


Snon-Storw  in  tJic  Sierra. 

No  sound  comes  to  the  listening  car, 
To  break  the  awful  spell  of  fear, 
Save  when  a  mystic  tremor  stirs 
The  lances  of  the  listening  firs, 
And  universal  terror  broods 
O'er  all  the  muffled  solitudes 

A  day,  a  night,  a  week  go  by, 
Dead-white  the  earth,  .steel-blue  the  sky 
Itends  o'er  a  silence  dread  and  d« 
As  pallid  death's  eternal  sleep. 

The  storm-kind's  revel  ended,  o'er, 

The  sunshine  gilds  the  scene  once  moic, 

O'crburdcned  with  its  fleecy  freight, 

And  cold  and  pitiless  as  fate. 

Afar  it  daxxles  dim  and  wide, 

O'er  shimmering  dome  and  tall  divide; 

Xut  ;ill  an  army's  serried  strength 

Might  force  that  barrier's  gleaming  length; 

All  sights,  all  objects,  far  and  near, 

Seem  burdened  with  a  spell  of  fear 

That  Nature'-  face  will  not  forsake, 

A  spell  no  earthly  force  may  break, 

Save  spring's  soft  breath,  and  summer  sun, 

When  winter's  ruthless  race  is  run. 

!i  tottering  steep,  each  towering  height, 
N  shrouded  with  a  mantle  white  ; 
High  upward,  eastward,  dim  it  spreads 
\YluTc  .shimmering  peaks  with  shivering  heads, 
Like  corp  n  from  the  bier, 

White-blanched  with  everlasting  fear. 
All  solemn  .stand  like  sheeted  gh 
Or  sped  :  their  p. 

O,  mighty,  snowy  solitude  s  ! 
What  awful  spell  of  mystery  broods 
Rapt  in  the  coldness  of  despair, 
Kternal  !   endless!   everywhere! 


Midnight  Musings.  113 


MIDNIGHT  MUSINGS. 


Night  had  drawn  her  sombre  curtain 

O'er  the  landscape's  form  uncertain — 
I  ow  and  faint  the  midnight  echoes  from  the  belfry,  ghostly  toll; 

Came  the  shadows  thick  and  thicker, 

In  the  lamp's  low,  dying  flicker, 
And  a  feeling,  deep  and  solemn,  sat  upon  my  inmost  soul. 

So,  I  mutely  mused  and  pondered 

On  this  life,  and  sadly  wandered 
Forth  into  the  midnight  stillness,  and  I  saw  the  countless  stars 

Glittering  as  the  visions  human, 

Bright  and  fair  as  dreams  of  woman, 

Happy  in  the  love  of  true  man — shining  through  their  heavenly 
bars. 

Far  Uranus,  solitary,. 

Like  some  wanderer,  lone  and  weary, 
In  the  deserts,  dim  and  dreary,  wandering,  lost  forevermorc — 

Faintly  glimmered ;  and  the  Pleiads, 

Like  lost,  wandering,  shivering  Naiads, 
Trembled  on  the  mystic  confines  of  the  everlasting  shore. 

And  the  moon,  like  wayward  maiden, 

With  her  smiles  of  promise  laden, 
Went  with  brothers,  sisters,  circling — Jupiter,  with  smiling  face. 

Mars,  with  glow  like  warrior  gory, 

Venus,  bright  with  love's  sweet  story, 
Saturn,  with  his  rings  of  glory — sweeping  on  through  silent  space- 

And  I  said  unto  my  spirit, 

We  will  heaven's  deep  mysteries  ferret — 
We  will  ponder,  we  will  wander  nigh  unto  the  Throne  of  God, 

Where  no  eye  of  mortal  gazes 

Through  the  star-mist  curtain  hazes, 
Through  bright,  labyrinthine  mazes,  ne'er  by  mortal  footstep  trod 


H4  Midnight  Musing.'. 

Like  a  glory  o'er  me  streaming, 

Shone  the  stars'  soft  radiance  beaming- 
Orbs  with  silvery  lustre  gleaming,  beaming  through  the  vault  of 
night — 

Suns  to  other  worlds  belonging, 

Starry  constellations  thronging, 
And  my  soul  was  filled  with  longing— longing  for  the  Infinite. 

Joyous  as  the  sky-lark  singing, 

Forth  we  fled  from  earth,  upspringing, 

On  the  plumes  of  fancy  winging,  through  ethereal  depths  and 
clear — 

Past  lost  worlds  in  darkness  sleeping, 

Past  the  sun's  vast  orbit  sweeping, 
Past  fierce  fiery  meteors  leaping,  onward  in  our  swift  car. 

So  we  wandered  on  and  onward, 
Forward,  outward,  upward,  sunward- 
Other  suns  and  other  systems  met  our  da/./lcd,  wondering  view- 
Each  bright,  radiant,  guardian  mother 
But  precursor  of  another 
Mother  of  a  starry  family,  in  the  universe  of  blue. 

On  we  swept  by  planets  sighing, 

Lone  and  vast,  in  darkness  lying — 
Onward,  toward  the  centre  flying,  like  an  arrow  to  its  aim; 

Still  undaunted,  .still  untirii 

Vision*  bright  my  fancy  firing, 
And  the  sun  went  out,  expiring  like  the  candle's  flickering  flame. 

Onward,  past  each  liravcnly  station, 

Swept  we  by  each  bright  creation— 
By  each  clustering  constellation,  by  each  lonely,  truant    I 

Fiery  comets  madly  lashing, 

Swift  thror  \\rnt  Midden,  flashing, 

Bearers  of  some  awful  message  to  the  trembling  worlds  afar. 


Midnight  Musings.  1 1 5 

Still  we  saw,  as  in  a  vision, 
Faintly  through  the  depths  elysian, 

Struggling  light  from  distant  planets,  that  no  mortal  eye  may 
view — 

One  faint  glow  of  starry  glory,  • 

Like  the  fame  of  warrior  gory — 

Like  some  dim-remembered  story — struggling  vain  to  wander 
through. 

And  these  glories  all  transcending, 

Past  all  human  comprehending, 
But  beginning  of  an  ending,  never  ending,  never  done, 

Terrified  my  soul  exceeding, 

Hitherto  unawed,  unheeding; 

And  my  faint  feet  weak  and  bleeding,  turned  from  labor  scarce 
begun. 

Who  shall  dare  to  dream  or  reckon 

All  the  countless  orbs  that  thicken — 
Myriad  millions  blazing,  burning,  far  beyond  our  mortal  sight, 

Wheeling  spheres  and  worlds  in  motion, 

Countless  as  the  sands  of  ocean, 
Wheeling,  flashing,  blazing,  burning,  through  the  awful  Infinite. 

E'en  should  we  by  dire  convulsion, 

With  resistless  dread  propulsion, 

Onward,  onward,  downward   rushing,   from   our  orbit  swift  be 
hurled, 

WThen  the  sun  had  ceased  to  kiss  us, 

Who  but  God,  would  ever  miss  us — 
Miss  this  atom,  though  we  perished  from  the  universe  of  worlds? 

And  I  cried  with  voice  of  anguish, 

"  Why  is  it  that  we  should  languish — 
Longing  for  this  rayless  atom,  with  its  strife,  and-sin,  and  lust? 

But  a  speck  on  God's  creation  !" 

And  in  dark  humiliation, 
Lo  !  I  bowed  my  humbled  spirit,  prone  in  agony  and  dust. 


Ii6  Autumn. 

"Oh  !"  I  cried,  "Yc  silvery  plan 

Free  and  soft  as  wandering  ganncts, 
How  I  long  to  wander  with  you — from  this  darkness  to  emerge!" 

But  the  stars  swept  onward,  shining, 

Heedless  of  my  vain  repining, 
And  the  moon  went  down,  declining,  to  the  dark  horizon's  verge. 

Then  I  heard  the  voice  of  water, 
Glad  as  song  of  Jephthah's  daughter — 

Heard  the  sighing  of  the  zephyrs  to  the  listening  orange  tree, 
Saw  the  heavens'  soft,  starry  glitter, 
Heard  the  dreaming  bird's  low  twitter, 

And  the  fancies  dark  and  bitter,  fled  and  left  my  spirit  free. 


AUTUMX. 


Amid  the  bowers,  in  sad  unrest, 
The  autumn  winds  are  sighing; 

Upon  the  mountain's  lofty  crest 
The  fleecy  clouds  arc  lying  ; 

In  faded  robes  of  russet  dressed, 
The  sombre  year  is  dying. 

Through  dreamy  grove  and  woodland  fiir, 

The  winds  go  sadly  wailing, 
The  weeping  vines,  with  branches  bar-  . 

Low  on  the  ground  arc  trailing; 
Upon  the  sad  October  air, 

The  withered  leaves  are  sailing. 

Faintly  the  echoes  come  and  go, 
Like  weary  hearts'  low  sighing, 

Sadly  the  gentle  breezes  blow, 
Where  withered  leaves  are  lyini', 

And  zephyrs  whisper,  soft  and  low, 
"Another  year  is  dying." 


Thermopylae. 


THERMOPYLAE. 


The  tyrant's  hosts  o'erspread  the  land, 

His  ships  o'erspread  the  sea, 
Where  kept  their  watch  the  Spartan  band 

Beside  Thermopylae, 
To  guard  with  stern,  determined  hand, 

The  birthright  of  the  free. 

No  soft,  luxurious  curtains  swept 

About  those  heroes  bold ; 
No  eunuchs  fanned  them  as  they  slept 

Upon  a  couch  of  gold — 
Nor  slaves  in  trembling  terror  kept 

Their  watch  o'er  wealth  untold. 

They  stood  within  that  narrow  path, 

Like  lion  whelps  at  bay, 
To  brave  the  glittering  tyrant's  wrath 

And  bar  his  boastful  way — 
To  hurl  the  bolt  of  Freedom's  scath 

Upon  his  proud  array. 

How  could  they  live  and  see  their  land, 

Their  fathers'  sacred  graves, 
Their  glorious  mounts,  their  sighing  strand 

Kissed  by  the  murmuring  waves, 
Their  plains,  their  groves,  their  temples  grand, 

The  heritage  of  slaves? 

The  christening  of  baptismal  blood, 

Came  with  the  flush  of  morn — 
Immovable  as  rocks  they  stood, 

In  hate's  unmeasured  scorn, 
To  yield  their  spirits  for  the  good 

Of  ages  yet  unborn. 


1 1 8  Therm  ; 

Firm  as  the  Grecian  hills  they  stood 

To  meet  the  Persian  foe, 
Whose  banners  like  a  leafy  wood 

Spread  boundless  far  below — 
As  boundless  as  the  Egcan  flood, 

Outspread  in  gleaming  flow. 

A  sea  of  spears;  a  glittering  flash; 
A  low,  tumultuous  hum ; 

A  deafening,  wild,  barbaric  crash 
Of  trumpet  and  of  drum, 

As  when  mad  storms  the  billows  lash— 
And  lo!  they  come!  they  come! 

From  Asia's  farthest,  darkest  lands, 
The  glittering  legions  pour, 

As  countless  as  the  myriad  sands 
That  strew  the  ocean  shore — 

Bands  surging  madly  upon  bands, 
Uppilcd  in  wreck  before! 

With  faces  stern,  that  would  not  pale, 
With  hearts  that  knew  not  fear, 

They  faced  full  well  that  deadly  hail 
Of  javelin  and  spear, 

That  beat  upon  their  coats  of  mail 
With  ringing  echoes  clear. 

With  fearless  hearts  they  met  their  doom, 

Rejoicing  in  their  pride, 
As  joyous  as  the  hopeful  groom 

Goes  forth  to  meet  his  bride; 
In  manhood's  strength,  in  glory's  bloom, 

They  met  the  foe,  and  died! 

\Yhat  spoil  had  Persia's  might  to  slv>\v, 

\Yhcn  lulled  the  deadly  strife? 
When  tide  of  battle  ceased  to  flou , 


Thermopylce.  j  1 9 


Where  discord  late  was  rife, 
No  captive  freeman  grovelled  low 
To  plead,  for  slavish  life; 

To  kiss  in  trembling-  awe  and  fear, 
His  conqueror's  garment  hems — 

To  supplicate  with  sigh  and  tear; 
No  gleam  of  costly  gems, 

Nor  store  of  glittering  gold  was  here. 
Nor  blaze  of  diadems. 

The  tyrant's  haughty  bosom  heaves 

With  impotent  despair ; 
Like  swelling  heaps  of  harvest  sheaves 

His  dead  are  everywhere — 
Like  countless  drifted  autumn  leaves; 

But  not -a  captive  there! 

O,  noblest  souls  of  any  age, 

Of  any  land  or  clime  ! 
Ye  left  on  history's  burnished  page 

A  lesson  to  all  Time — 
Of  Freemen's  scorn,  of  patriot  rage, 

Of  sacrifice  sublime — 

The  lesson  that  a  tyrant's  power 
Fell-massed,  may  seek  to  chain, 

To  hold  in  thrall  for  one  brief  hour, 
One  Freeman's  soul  in  vain — 

To  make  him  lowly,  prostrate,  cower 
Before  his  slavish  train. 

Came  hush  of  eve  at  close  of  day, 

And  rest  for  weary  feet ; 
.The  noise  of  battle  passed  away, 

And  Freedom's  offering  sweet, 
Upon  her  holy  altar  lay — • 

Her  sacrifice  complete! 


I2O  By  the  Sea. 


BY  THE  SEA. 


Roll!  roll!  roll! 
O,  vague,  mysterious  scroll ! 
O,  awful  page  of  history, 

\Yrit  by  the  Almighty  hand  ! 
Oh!  that  thy  dreadful  mystery 
My  mind  might  solve,  my  soul  might  sec! 
Oh!  longing  vain  !  it  may  not  be — 
We  may  not  understand. 

Sigh  !  sigh  !  sigh  ! 
Like  weary  heart;  Oh,  why 
Forever  sad  and  sorrowful, 

Oh,  wherefore  sigh,  O,  sea  ? 
Upon  earth's  quiet  breast, 
Why  canst  thou  never  rest  ? 
1  low  like  to  human  life  thou  art, 
O,  mournful,  restless  sea  ! 

Moan  !  moan  !  moan  ! 
Like  weeper  sad  and  lone  ! 
What  crimes  lie  heavy  on  thy  soul, 
Why  dost  thou  moan,  O,  sea  ? 
For  gallant  ships  gone  down, 
Wrecked  hopes,  or  ruined  town  ? 
Soon,  soon  o'er  all,  the  seas  shall  roll 
Of  vast  eternity. 

ar !  roar!  roar! 
Why  dost  thou  seek  the  shore 
In  anger,  that  thy  ruthless  inarch 

I     Stopp  (1  and  sl,:ycd  at  last  ? 
Why  dost  thou  lift  thy  hand 
Against  the  peaceful  land — 
Like  maniac  in  thy  frcn/y  hurl 
Thy  giant  forces  vast  ? 


Illinois.  1 2 1 

Fret !  fret !  fret ! 
Like  souls  that  ne'er  forget ! 
What  hidden  sorrow  hast  thou  known, 

What  cross  has  come  to  thee  ? 
The  stars  their  passion  tell, 
The  moon  still  loves  thee  well  ; 
What  canst  thou  know  of  blighted  hopes, 
O,  mournful,  fretful  sea  ? 

Break  !  break  !  break  ! 
Like  hearts  when  friends  forsake  ! 
No  more  thy  sparkling  waves  shall  play 

Amid  bright  tropic  isles  ; 
They  break  upon  the  strand, 
Like  hearts  upon  the  land — 
Like  human  hearts,  when  Hope  no  more  • 
Upon  their  altar  smiles. 


ILLINOIS. 


Land  of  childhood's  vanished  dream, 
Land  of  lake  and  boundless  prairie, 

Land  of  murmuring  brook  and  stream, 
I  have  wandered,  and  am  weary  ! 

I  have  wandered  far  from  thee, 
Where  my  kindred  dust  reposes, 

And  beside  the  Western  sea, 
Dream  amid  perennial  roses. 

Yet  to-day  thy  memories  rise, 
Trooping  sadly,  coming,  going  ; 

In  my  heart  and  in  my  eyes, 

Tender  springs  of  thought  o'erflowing. 


1 2  2  Illinois. 


I  have  seen  thy  shrouding  snows. 
Flashing  in  their  chilly  splendor, 

Holding  in  their  white  repose, 
Nature's  hidden  darlings  tender 

I  have  wandered  rapt  and  oft, 

In  thy  woodlands  thick  and  mazy, 

When  the  south-winds  murmuring  soft, 
Whispered  to  the  peeping  daisy: 

"Hide  no  more  thy  face  in  fear, 
Linger  not  in  listless  languor; 

Hasten,  love,  the  spring  is  here- 
Fled  the  snow-king's  bitter  anger." 

I  have  seen  earth's  flowery  bed, 
Laden  with  its  tender  blisses, 

And  the  bluebell  bend  her  head, 
Coyly  to  the  zephyr's  kisses. 

I  have  lingered  by  the  side 

Of  thy  lakelets,  hushed  and  stilly, 

When  the  dreamy  crystal  tide 
Kissed  the  sleeping  water  lily. 

I  have  watched  thy  glories  pale, 

Fading  like  a  dying  ember, 
Sighs  on  every  passing  gale, 

In  thy  dreamy,  sad  September, 

I  have  seen  thy  green  leaves  wave, 
And  when  autumn's  footsteps  follow, 

Borne  by  north  winds  to  their  grave, 
Heaped  in  many  a  lonely  hollow. 

Days  of  April  smiles  and  tears, 
Days  of  licet  in;.;  sighs  and  gladr. 

Days  of  mingled  hopes  and  f< 

Days  of  mingled  joy  and  sadness, 


The  Song  of  tJie  Drum.  123 

Nevermore,  oh,  nevermore, 

Time  may  yield  such  full  completeness, 
Holding  in  its  mystic  store, 

For  my  soul,  such  perfect  sweetness  ! 

Rainbow  hope  again  may  shed 

O'er  my  soul  such  brightness,  never ! 

Summer  past,  and  springtime  fled, 
Perished,  vanished,  gone  forever  ! 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  DRUM. 


I  have  stirred  the  blood  of  ages, 
I  have  roused  their  hates  and  rages, 
I  have  maddened  priests  and  sages, 

With  my  Drum  !  Drum  !  Drum  ! 
Listen  to  my  thrilling  story — 
To  the  combat  fierce  and  gory, 
To  the  field  of  death  and  glory. 

Haste  to  Come  !  Come  !  Come  ! 

Where  the  death-lights  dance  and  quiver, 

Over  war's  dark-flowing  river, 

Let  the  faint-heart  shrink  and  shiver. 

With  his  white  lips  dumb; 
Let  the  coward  hide  and  burrow, 
Leave  the  plowshare  in  the  furrow, 
As  the  swift  and  eager  arrow 

Haste  to  Come!    Come!    Come! 

From  the  scenes  of  childhood's  prattle, 
To  the  thunder-storm  of  battle, 
Where  the  death-bolts  crash  and  rattle, 

And  the  swift  balls  hum ; 
Where  the  riven  ranks  are  falling 
'Mid  the  smoke-wreaths  writhing,  palling, 
I  am  ever  calling,  calling, 

With  my  "Come!    Come!    Come!" 


Requiem  for  the  Old  Year. 


A  REQUIEM  FOR  THE  OLD  YEAR. 

Mourn  not  the  old  year  departing, 
Press  back  the  bitter  tears  starting, 

Watch  round  his  pillow  till  dawn; 
With  the  past,  dusty  and  rotten, 
Leave  him  to  slumber  forgotten 

\Yith  the  dim  centuries  gone. 

Life  is  but  short  and  uncertain, 
Veiled  by  time's  dark,  misty  curtain, 

Changeful  and  false  as  the  moon ; 
Checkered  with  pleasure  and  sorrow, 
Dark  clouds  or  sunshine  to-morrow 

Fading  and  vanishing  soon. 

Weep  not  for  bright  hopes  departed, 
Sigh  not  in  grief,  broken-hearted, 

Dream  not  of  memories  fled; 
Bury  the  dead  with  his  treasures, 
Bright  dreams  and  quick-fleeting  pleasures — 

Summer  flowers  withered  and  dead. 

Other  years,  blooming  above  us, 
Come  like  the  children  that  love  us, 

Burdened  with  bright  hopes  and  fears; 
Bringing  sweet  pleasure  and  gladness, 
Sunshine,  and  joy,  and  sadness, 

Darkness,  and  sorrow,  and  tears. 

Softly  !  the  old  year  is  dying; 
Faintly  and  slowly  his  sighing 

Breaks  through  the  stillness  and  gloom; 
Gather  around,  yc  that  love  him, 
Scatter  the  roses  above  him, 

Lay  him  to  rest  in  his  tomb. 


Decoration  Poem.  125 

DECORATION    POEM. 


[Written  for  Frank  Bartlett  Post,  G.  A.  R.,  Los  Angeles.     Read  by  Major 
Geo.  E.  Gard,  May  30,  1879.] 

Comrades,  rest;  your  march  is  done! 

Written  Fame's  immortal  story; 
Fought  the  fight,  the  victory  won, 

Dream  no  more  of  death  and  glory. 
Not  again  at  day's  dim  break, 
Shall  the  trumpet  bid  you  wake; 

Nevermore  in  war's  red  track, 
Face  the  bullet's  deadly  rattle, 

Nor  from  weary  bivouac 
Leap  to  meet  the  storm  of  battle. 

Here  no  deep  artillery  swell, 

Sabre-clang  or  bayonet  gleaming, 
Hiss  of  shot,  or  screech  of  shell 

Break  your  placid  midnight-dreaming. 
Here,  with  gentle  heart  and  hand, 
Come  the  daughters  of  the  land, 

O'er  each   hero's  noble  breast 
Fragrant  flowers  of  beauty  strewing; — 

Every  hallowed  place  of  rest, 
Tears  from  tender  eyes  bedewing. 

Free  from  base,  polluting  slaves, 

With  a  soldier's  high  endeavor, 
Comrades,  we  will  keep  your  graves 

Holy  shrines  of  glory  ever. 
Here  we  gather  one  and  all, 
Standing  forth  at  duty'*  call; 

Honor  we  our  heroes  dead, 
Valiant  in  their  country's  quarrel, 

And  each  soldier's  honored  bed 
Proudly  wreathe  with  rose  and  laurel. 


I  2C)  \Vclcomc  from  Los  Angeles  to  San  l:nvicisco. 

In  life's  column,  breaking  ranks, 

From  the  call  that  brought  us  hither, 

Dropping  from  our  serried  flanks, 

Yc  have  wandered,  comrades,  whither? 

To  that  starry  esplanade, 

Than  earth's  mightiest, — broader,  grander, 
Standing  in  the  grand  parade 

Marshalled  by  the  Great  Commander, 
Answering  at  the  call  of  roll 
Read  from  Fame's  immortal  scroll, 

Gone  from  life's  dark  sentry-tramp, 
O'er  the  dim  eternal  river, 

Resting  in  the  heavenly  camp, 
Comrades,  sleep  in  peace,  forever! 


WJ  LCOM1-:  FROM  LOS  ANGELES  TO  SAN 
FRANCISCO. 


[Written  upon  the  driving  of  the  last  spike  in  the  S.    P.   K.    R.,  connecting  Los 
Angeles  wilh  San  Francisco.] 

Welcome  to  our  bovvers  of  roses, 
Welcome,  lover,  strong  and  true, 

Where  sweet  Summer's  breath  reposes 
All  the  long,  bright  season  through ! 

L<» !  a  maiden,  coy  to  greet  you, 

Orange-crowned,  with  rosy  mouth, 
Hither  come  <•;;:  to  meet  you, 

Daughter  of  the  sunny  South. 

Follow  swift  your  welcome  letters, 

Come  in  glory  and  in  pride  ; 
Hind  us  with  the  willing  fetters, 

the  bridegroom  binds  the  bride. 


Welcome  from  Los  Angeles  to  San  Francisco.  127 

Hold  us  firmly  bound  forever, 

Fold  us  with  your  iron  bands 
In  embrace  that  none  may  sever, 

With  our  sighing  sister  lands. 

Leave  awhile  your  wind-vexed  billows, 

Let  the  tide  ebb  to  and  fro; 
Sleep  beneath  our  sighing  willows, 

While  your  white  sails  come  and  go. 

Storms  of  sea-birds  fiercely  driven, 

Fleeing  from  the  icy  zones, 
Like  the  drifting  cloud-rack  riven, 

Shriek  around  your  Farallones. 

Here,  the  breath  of  rose  and  myrtle 

Soft  and  sweet  the  sleepers  kiss, 
And  the  humming-bird  and  turtle 

Lull  to  dreams  of  love  and  bliss. 

Leave  dark  care's  corroding  canker — 
Come  with  smiles  about  your  mouth; 

Let  your  galleons  ride  at  anchor, 
While  you  dally  with  the  South. 

Standing  by  the  stormy  ocean, 

With  thy  will  to  do  and  dare, 
Placid  'mid  the  wild  commotion, 

Thou  art  strong,  as  we  are  fair. 

Still  thy  strong  arm,  never  weary, 

Thrusting  far  its  iron  hand, 
Reaching  o'er  the  white  Sierra, 

Grasps  the  wealth  of  every  land. 

All  the  sprites  of  earth  and  ocean 

Bow  them  at  thy  footstool  low ; 
And  thy  ships,  with  stately  motion, 

At  thy  bidding  come  and  go.  ' 


28  Welcome  from  Los  Angeles  to  San  Francisco. 

White  sails,  like  some  pure  orison 
In  the  sunset's  dying  gleam, 

O'er  the  ocean's  dim  horizon 
Vanish  like  some  fading  dream. 

Lo  !  thine  car  doth  lean  and  listen 
At  the  East's  faint  opened  doors, 

And  thy  white  sails  gleam  and  glisten 
O'er  the  sea's  remotest  shores. 

Where  the  swift  keels  vex  the  waters, 
Murmuring  round  the  Golden  Gate, 

Come  the  East's  proud,  jeweled  daughters, 
Queenly  in  their  gorgeous  state. 

Not  so  soft  and  sweet  and  tender 
Sleeps  love's  dreaming  in  their  eyes; 

Not  so  dazzling  in  their  splendor 
As  the  glories  of  our  skies. 

We  have  mountains,  hoar  and  olden, 

.very  vales  and  murmuring  a 
We  have  fruits  as  rare  and  golden 
As  the  bright  Hcspcridcs. 

We  have  vineyards  purple  laden, 
Wreathing  every  hill  and  vale; 

Blushing  as  the  trembling  maiden, 
When  she  lists  to  love's  fond  tale. 

To  thy  marts  with  treasure  teeming, 
Wing  we  as  the  laden  bees, 

Wakened  from  our  maiden  dreaming, 
By  the  sleeping,  peaceful  seas. 

Cheer  us  in  our  high  endeavor, 

Viking  of  the  mighty  sea; 
So  shall  faith  and  love  forever 

Hind  us  fondly  unto  thcc. 


October.  129 

OCTOBER. 


Slow  and  stately,  sad  and  sober, 
Come  the  footsteps  of  October — 
Trembling  echoes  faintly  dying, 

Sighing  zephyrs  all  around  ; 
Fading  flowers  for  respite  suing, 
Withered  leaves  her  pathway  strewing, 
All  the  woodland  glories  lying 
Prone  upon  the  dreamless  ground. 

Slow  the  ripened  nuts  are  falling, 
Low  the  plaintive  quail  is  calling; 
Now  the  maize  with  rustling  tingle, 

All  its  golden  wealth  unfolds; 
And  the  grape,  with  purple  flushing, 
Drooping  low,  awaits  the  crushing, 
Ere  its  soul  shall  intermingle 
With  the  flow  of  other  souls. 

Now  the  air  is  crisp  and  crisper, 
With  the  white-lipped  frost's  faint  whisper, 
And  the  starry  legions  fastly 

Bright  begem  the  sleeping  waves ; 
And  the  weeping  willows  quiver 
With  a  faint  and  fearful  shiver, 

As  the  moonlight  weird  and  ghastly 
Falls  upon  forgotten  graves. 

Nature  for  her  darlings  grieving, 
Sits  as  mourner  unbelieving, 

Like  some  listless  weeper  crooning, 
With  sad  palms  together  pressed; 
All  the  earth  is  full  of  sighing, 
For  her  loved  ones  fading,  dying, 
Lying  in  a  deathly  swooning, 
On  their  lonely  mother's  breast. 

9 


1 30  Welcome,  Gentle  Rain. 

All  the  days  arc  full  of  sadness; 
Fled  the  Summer's  flush  of  gladness; 
Hazes  veil  the  trembling  mountains, 

Like  a  phantom  glides  the  sun; 
Dreamy,  dreamy,  sad  October, 
Nun-like  in  thy  habit,  sober; 

Hush  of  death  is  on  thy  fountains; 
Summer's  race  of  glory  run. 


WELCOME,  GENTLE  RAIN. 


Welcome,  welcome,  gentle  rain, 
Softly  tripping  o'er  the  plain, 
\Yith  thy  moistened  finger-tips 
Cooling  nature's  fevered  lips; 
Showering  kisses  on  her  face, 
Resting  in  her  fierce  embrace; 
Joy  and  blessings  in  thy  train — 
Welcome,  welcome,  gentle  rain  ! 

Where  thy  fairy  footsteps  pass, 
Soon  shall  spring  the  tender  grass, 
Soon  shall  toss  the  waving  grain, 
Like  the  storm-vexed  billowy  main; 
Winds  shall  whisper  in  the  tree, 
And  the  wandering,  dreamy  bee 
Drift  from  flower  to  flower  along, 
Singing  still  her  drowsy  song; 
Sad  and  sweet,  the  plaintive  dove 
To  her  mate  shall  sing  of  love; 
Nature  burst  her  silent  tomb — 
Hirds  shall  warble — earth  shall  bloom 
Like  lost  Paradise  again  ! 
Welcome,  welcome,  gentle  rain. 


Los  Angles.  131 

Welcome,  welcome,  gentle  rain, 
Singing  still  thy  soft  refrain  ! 
Soon  shall  leap  the  sparkling  rills, 
Living  glory  crown  the  hills; 
Tender  lambs  shall  skip  and  play 
Where  the  shepherds  idly  stray; 
Happy  birds  shall  warbling  sing, 
Leafy  bowers  shall  throb  and  ring, 
Fields  shall  flush  with  brighter  hue, 
Skies  shall  melt  to  deeper  blue, 
Nature  wake  from  still  repose, 
Deserts  blossom  as  the  rose, 
Flowers  shall  shed  their  sweet  perfume 
O'er  bright  vales  of  Eden-bloom, 
Zephyrs  sing  a  softer  strain — • 
Welcome,  welcome,  gentle  rain! 


LOS  ANGELES. 

Standing  by  the  western  main, 
In  thy  queen-like,  fairy  train, 
Like  a  maiden,  bright  and  fair, 
With  the  roses  in  thy  hair, 

With  a  dream  of  summer  skies, 
In  thy  tender  love-lit  eyes, 
Like  Titania,  fairy  queen, 
In  thy  robes  of  gold  and  green. 

'Round  thy  feet  the  roses  cling; 
In  thy  smile,  perpetual  Spring; 
Leaning  on  the  hoary  mountain, 
At  thy  feet  the  silvery  fountain. 


132  Los  Angeles 


\Yherc  the  drowsy  song  of  bees 
Mingles  with  the  sighing  seas, 
Odors  sweet,  o'er  countless  mile<( 
Wafted  from  the  spicy  isle:;. 

With  a  flush  thy  brow  upon, 
Like  the  purple  skies  at  dawn, 
Like  some  maiden,  sweet  and  fair, 
In  the  sighing  twilight  air, 
When. the  summer  day  is  done, 
Waiting  to  be  wooed  and  won. 

Gallants  soon  shall  wander  to  thce, 
Suitors  soon  shall  come  to  woo  thee 
From  the  Kast  and  from  the  West, 
Yearning,  longing  to  be  blest, 
From  the  North  and  from  the  South, 
Stealing  kisses  from  thy  mouth 

O'er  the  land  and  o'er  the  sea, 
Suitors  soon  shall  come  to  thce — 
They  will  seek  thce  in  thy  bowers, 
Crowned  with  wreaths  of  orange  flowers, 

They  will  trace  thce  to  thy  scat, 
Where  the  zephyrs  murmur  sweet — 
Where  the  fairy  footsteps  wander 
'Ncath  the  purple  oleander; 
Where  the  lily,  tall  and  slender, 
Bows  her  head  in  dreamy  splendor. 

In  the  twilight's  tender  gloom, 
Where  the  sweet  moss-roses  bloom 
Like  some  maiden,  coy,  at  last 
They  will  find,  and  hold  thce  fast 

i  hej       ill  whisper  talcs  of  love 

n  the  stars  look  from  above; 
Lay  their  treasures  at  thy  feet, 

They  will  woo  thee  well,  my  sweet. 


The    Vaqnero.  133 

Haply,  thou  their  lives  shalt  bless 
With  thy  tender  fond  caress. 
From  thy  vine-wreathed,  fairy  home, 
Restless  ones  no  more  shall  roam; 
On  thy  loving,  gentle  breast, 
Weary  ones  shall  dream  and  rest. 


THE  VAQUERO. 


Woe,  woe  to  the  wretch  that  his  lariat's  coils, 
Fell-tightened,  may  wreathe  in  its  terrible  toils! 
Where  dark,  surging  hosts,  like  the  mad,  rushing  wind, 
Flee  wildly,  what  spectre  rides  weirdly  behind, 
With  eyes  flaming  red,  like  the  meteor's  glare, 
That  sheds  its  fierce  rays  o'er  the  way  of  despair? 
He  rides  on  their  path  like  the  angel  of  death, 
That  rides  on  the  wrath  of  the  hurricane's  breath ; 
He  comes,  and  the  terrified  refugees  flee, 
Like  petrels  that  skim  o'er  the  storm-troubled  sea ; 
They  flee  from  the  sweep  of  the  lasso's  dread  thralls; 
Woe,  woe  to  the  wretch  when  the  thunderbolt  falls ! 

On,  onward  with  roar  like  the  storm-troubled  deep, 
They  come  like  the  rush  of  the  hurricane's  sweep; 
The  sheen  of  the  spears  of  the  dew-laden  grass 
Is  ground  into  powder  and  melts  as  they  pass; 
And  vanish  all  things  in  the  path  where  they  run, 
As  swiftly  as  mists  in  the  track  of  the  sun ; 
Like  fierce,  zig-zag  lightning,  the  lariat  sweeps 
Through  space,  ere  its  pitiless  thunderbolt  leaps; 
Now  swaying,  and  sweeping,  and  circling,  it  swings, 
Then  swift  as  the  coils  of  the  cobra  it  springs! 
Like  oak  by  the  shaft  of  the  lightning  o'erthrown, 
The  victim  falls  stricken,  a  captive,  alone! 
What  doom-singled  form  may  escape  from  its  thralls? 
Woe,  woe  to  the  herd  when  the  thunderbolt  falls! 


1 34  Never  Go  Back  on  a  Friend. 


NEVER  GO  BACK  ON  A  FRIEND. 

Never  go  back  on  a  friend  ! 

When  his  life  with  dark  mist  is  enshrouded; 
Ever  be  true  to  the  end, 

When  his  sky  with  misfortune  is  clouded ; 
Add  not  one  bitter  pang  more, 

To  a  soul  that  already  is  aching; 
I  Iclp  not  to  render  more  sore, 

A  heart  that  is  bleeding  and  breaking. 

His  sun  all  resplendent  may  shine, 

And  thine  may  be  shrouded  in  sorrow; 
The  roses  around  him  may  twine, 

And  thine  may  be  withered  to-morrow. 
The  quick,  lurid  lightnings  may  leap — 

All  thy  gorgeous  possessions  may  perish ; 
And  the  waves  of  adversity  sweep 

Over  all  thou  dost  value  and  cherish. 

The  rust  and  the  mildew  may  creep 

O'er  the  fanes  thou  hast  lovingly  gilded. 
And  the  fierce,  rushing  avalanche  sweep 

O'er  the  spot,  where  thy  castle  is  buildcd. 
The  earthquake  may  level  thy  pride, 

The  crater  may  rend  its  tliin  crust, 
And  the  red  lava  'whelm  in  its  tide, 

And  the  hurricane  humble  in  dust. 

Together,  at  last,  ye  may  stand, 

When  the  body  surrenders  its  breath, 
And  journey  alone,  hand  in  hand, 

Through  the  shades  of  the  valley  of  death. 
Let  the  .stars  wander  madly  through  space, 

And  time  with  eternity  blend, 
And  the  fast,  or  the  slow,  win  the  race, 

But  "nc\i  i  on  a  friend." 


Mzcrder.  135 


MURDER. 

A  whisper  soft  and  low, 
A  face,  with  angry  glow, 
A  start,  a  word,  a  blow, 

A  ringing  shot,  a  cry, 
A  quivering  form,  a  sigh, 
A  fixed  and  glazing  eye. 

A  song,  a  prayer  to  save, 

A  coffin  rude,  a  grave 

Where  pine-trees  sigh  and  wave, 

Made  deep  by  stranger  hand, 
Where  mountains,  white  and  grand, 
Like  ghosts,  eternal  stand. 

No  muttering  thunder  deep, 
Shall  ever  wake  thy  sleep, 
Or  mourners  come  to  weep ; 

Nor  bitter  tears  be  shed, 
When  skies  are  purpling  red, 
Above  thy  lowly  bed. 

Weep,  weep,  ye  night  dews  o'er, 
Deep,  deep,  ye  wild  winds  roar, 
Sleep,  sleep,  to  wake  no  more. 


Remorse,  and  sorrow  vain — 
A  brow  all  dark  with  pain — 
A  brand — another  Cain  ! 


o 


1 36  Northland  and  SoutJdaiid. 


NORTHLAND  AND  SOUTHLAND. 


Said  the  Southland  to  the  North, 
"  Life  in  thcc  is  little  worth, 
With  thy  bitter  breath  that  blows, 
With  thy  chilling-  ice  and  snows, 
With  thy  frozen  lakes  and  streams 
Spellbound  fast  with  nightmare  dreams; 
Blasted  by  the  wintry  breath, 
Roses  pale  and  droop  in  death, 
Leafy  flush  and  flowery  bloom 
Fade  at  fiat  of  their  doom ; 
Songsters  plume  their  wings  and  flee 
From  the  wrath  of  days  to  be — 
With  a  shivering,  hopeless  sigh, 
All  thy  darlings  droop  and  die; 
All  thy  glories  bright  and  brave 
Sleep  and  moulder  in  the  grave, 
While  above  my  bosom  calm 
Broods  eternal  breath  of  balm." 

Said  the  Northland  to  the  South, 
"  Thou  art  parched  with  heat  and  drouth; 
Fevers  scorch  thy  veins  in  youth, 
1  Jaunting  all  thy  steps  with  ruth. 
Serpents  haunt  thy  fadeless  bowers, 
Death  thy  ever-blooming  flowers; 
Quenchless  longings,  fierce  desires 
Thrill  thy  veins  with  maddening  fires; 

rlasting  languor  broods 
O'er  thy  flowery  solitudes; 
Pale  malaria  lurks  unseen, 
In  thy  tangled  tresses'  sheen, 
Where  the  drooping  cypress  waves, 
Sighing  o'er  forgotten  graves; 


Morton.  137 


But  from  out  my  winter's  strife 
Springs  renewed  a  fresher  life. 
Myriad  germs  of  fruit  and  flower 
Quickened  by  the  mystic  power, 
Thrill  and  throb,  and  swell  and  burst 
Bright  as  in  earth's  morning  first. 
As  awaking  from  a  dream, 
Every  slumbering  brook  and  stream 
Bursts  its  brittle  icy  bound, 
With  a  gladsome  murmurous  sound, 
And  with  tender  glow  and  gleam, 
New-born  glory  reigns  supreme." 


MORTON." 


Dead  lion  of  the  land  ! 

Proud,  kingly  head,  laid  low ! 
Strong  of  the  heart  and  hand, 
Great  leader  in  command, 
Immortal  patriot,  grand  ! 

Low  o'er  thy  bier  we  bow. 

Beneath  the  war's  dark  pall, 

Thy  words  of  ringing  cheer 
Roused  armies  with  their  call; 
High,  looming  over  all, 
Thy  spirit,  grand  and  tall, 

Still  lingers  with  us  here. 

On  fields  of  blood  and  gore 
Thy  mighty  voice  was  heard ; 

The  echoes  of  its  roar 

Still  ring  from  shore  to  shore, 

And  shall  forevermore, 

While  Freedom's  pulse  is  stirred. 

Written  u^jon  receipt  of  news  of  the  death  of  Indiana's  great   "  \Var  Governor. 


138 

SIGNS.* 


Lo!  in  the  skies  a  mighty  angel  tall! 

A  sword  of  flame  far-flashing  through  the  gloom! 
From  time's  far  depths  a  mighty  trumpet  call, 

Warning  of  wrath,  and  woe,  and  death,  and  doom. 

Dim,  shadowy  spectres  through  the  darkness  loom, 
And  war's  dark  shadows  gather  like  a  pall, 

Shrouding  a  tottering  empire's  yawning  tomb; 
Lo!  the  handwriting  on  time's  awful  wall, 
Foretelling  blood,  and  overthrow,  and  fall. 

Signs  in  the  skies!     The  starry  hosts  engage 

O'er  doomed  Byzantium's  tomb  enshrined  in  moss; 
Swift  meteors  blaze,  and  spectral  warriors  wage 

Fierce  battle  for  the  Crescent  and  the  Cross. 

Madly  the  hosts  contending  heave  and  toss, 
As  wave  meets  wave  when  storms  have  rent  their  cage; 

Down  sinks  the  Crescent's  crimsoned,  silken  floss; 
No  more  the  bigot  Moslem's  dotard  rage 
Shall  blot  with  gore  bright  Europe's  glorious  page. 

No  more  thy  trembling  form  shall  quake  and  lean 

O'er  the  bright  Bosphorus,  with  recking  hands, 
Tainting  with  death  each  bright  and  golden  scene, 

O,  loathsome  leper  of  the  western  lands ! 

Soon,  soon  shall  rend  thy  rusted  iron  bands, 
The  sighing  land  of  glorious  Constantinc; 

Back!  to  old  Asia's  wilds  and  desert  sands! 
Hide  thy  marred  face,  and  bow  thy  alien  mien — 
Crying,  afar,  "Unclean!  unclean!  unclean!" 

No  longer  shall  thy  withering  footsteps  haunt 
The  classic  shores  by  sage  and  poet  sun;;, 

Nor  vile  oppression's  throttling  clutches  daunt 
The  thrilling  accents  of  sweet  I;rccdom's  tongue; 

•Written  just  preceding  the  commencement  of  hostilities  between  Russia  and  Turkey. 


To  tJie  Comet.  139 

From  Saint  Sophia's  glittering  dome  outflung, 
Soon  shall  the  Cross  the  waning  Crescent  taunt, 

As  in  the  days  when  chivalry  was  young ; 
No  more  thy  pirate  banners  flame  and  flaunt 
O'er  the  oright  pathway  of  the  Hellespont. 


Signs  in  the  East !     Swift  lightning  sudden  flashing 

From  unsheathed  sabres,  thick  as  forest  leaves — 
Wild  tumult,  as  of  billows  madly  lashing 

When  ocean's  deep-stirred  bosom  wildly  heaves. 

The  wind  that  o'er  sad  Servia  moans  and  grieves 
Shall  hush  in  awe  when  steel  on  steel  is  clashing 

In  war's  fierce  storm,  and  warriors  lie  like  sheaves 
Where  squadrons  o'er  red  fields  are  madly  dashing 
'Mid  cannon  flame,  and  thunderbolt  fierce  crashing. 


TO    THE    COMET. 


[Written  on  the  appearance  of  Coggia's  Comet,  in  1874.] 

Weird,  wayward  wanderer  !  no  one  knoweth 
From  whence  thou  cometh,  whither  goeth, 
What  cause  impels  thy  eager  race 
Through  the  lost  depths  of  boundless  space, 
What  fear  impels  thy  headlong  flight 
Through  the  lone  watches  of  the  night, 
What  dread  impulse  hath  made  thee  leap 
Into  the  vague,  eternal  deep, 
Why  forth  thy  lurid  flashes  stream. 
When  weary  mortals  sleep  and  dream  ? 


140  To  the  Comet. 

Perchance,  on  thcc  some  curse  hath  been 
Pronounced  by  mighty  power  unseen, 
Beyond  the  dim  eternal  shore, 
And  thou  art  doomed  forevermore, 
And  banished  from  the  heavenly  train, 
To  wander  forth,  like  branded  Cain. 

From  whence  you  come,  or  whither  go, 

Are  secrets  we  may  never  know; 

Your  future,  what  your  present  mission, 

Your  name  or  previous  condition, 

Are  mysteries  as  darkly  hid 

As  those  of  Egypt's  pyramid, 

Or  that  dread  memory  that  shrinks 

Within  the  lips  of  sullen  Sphynx — 

More  vague  than  fabled  dreams  that  cling 

Around  old  Nile's  mysterious  spring. 

In  headlong  flight  on  fiery  wing, 
',-flccing,  like  a  guilty  thing, 
Upon  thy  lonely  felon  path 
In  fear,  before  avenging  wrath, 
At  dewy  eve,  and  purple  dawn, 
Thy  course  is  ever  on  and  on  ; 
When  shades  arc  stealing  o'er  the  West, 
Thou  mayst  not  pause,  thou  mayst  not  rest 
On,  ever  on,  without  repose, 
Through  starry  archipelagoes, 
Where  constellations  wheel  and  turn, 
And  fiery  planets  blaze  and  burn, 
A  dazzling  flash  across  each  face — 
Away,  away,  through  viewless  space, 
Through  glooming  night,  and  gleaming  day, 
Through  tj?c  bright  star-gemmed  milky  way, 
Through  space  ethereal,  vast,  unknown, 
Thy  course  is  onward,  still  alone. 


To  the  Co?i:ct.  141 

Through  soundless  depths,  and  wavclcss  seas, 
Past  the  lone,  trembling  Pleiades, 
Through  tideless  deep  and  starry  zone, 
By  flaming  suns  and  worlds  unknown, 
On  which  proud  science  ne'er  hath  gleamed, 
No  Newton  gazed,  nor  Herschel  dreamed  ; 
Still  shalt  thou  keep  thy  tireless  race 
Thro'  the  long  years  ;  where  awful  space 
Is  measured  not  by  slow  degrees — 
Through  lost  infinity's  lone  seas. 

When  murmuring  night-winds  softly  creep, 
To  kiss  the  folded  flowers  asleep, 
We  gaze  upon  thy  flaming  path, 
As  on  some  fearful  thing  of  wrath. 
We  sleep,  we  start,  we  gasp  for  breath, 
And  dream  of  dangers,  wars,  and  death. 

When  night  looks  down  through  mantling  fears, 

And  bathes  the  world  with  dewy  tears, 

We  see  thy  trailing  banner  stream, 

Like  mad  ambition's  fevered  dream; 

As  conqueror  fierce  in  frenzied  mood, 

Goes  onward  in  his  path  of  blood ; 

Like  some  rash  monarch's  hasty  flight, 

When  suffering  nations  rise  in  might, 

And  hurl  him  from  usurping  throne, 

Thou  flecst  on,  alone,  alone. 

The  ocean's  tide  may  ebb  and  flow, 

And  circling  centuries  come  and  go; 

Still  shalt  thou  journey  as  at  first, 

And  wander  on — a  thing  accursed. 

We  sec  thce  in  the  silent  night, 

But  what  thy  purpose — why  thy  flight — 

We  cannot  tell ;  we  only  know 

Thy  doom  is  written  :  "Thou  must  go  !  " 


142  The  Orange  Tree. 


THE  ORANGE  TREE. 

In  duteous  love  to  thee, 
We  humble  heart  and  knee, 
O,  beauteous  orange  tree, 

With  glory  girt  around  ! 
Bright  in  thy  glittering  sheen, 
Enrobed  in  gold  and  green, 
O,  matchless,  glorious  queen  ! 

With  regal  splendor  crowned  ! 

O,  not  so  soft  the  wile 
Of  Cleopatra's  smile, 
Beside  the  slumbering  Nile, 

Nor  half  so  sweet  her  kiss; 
Nor  half  so  bright  and  grand, 
Waved  o'er  Assyria's  land 
The  jcwcl-sccptercd  hand, 

Of  proud  Scmiramis  ! 

Arrayed  in  bridal  veil, 

Thy  breath  perfumes  the  gale, 

When  lovers  breathe  their  talc, 

Thy  listening  boughs  beneath; 
Thy  bright  form  bending  down, 
Shall  sighs  and  murmurs  drown; 
And  blushing  beauty  crown 

With  love's  own  bridal  wreath. 

Through  Summer's  ardent  blaze, 
Through  dreamy,  purple  haze 
Of  Autumn's  saddened  days, 

Thou  \\x-arcst  thy  robe  of  green ; 
But  when  the  Spring's  soft  light 
Gleams  o'er  the  mountain  height, 
Through  leafy  arbors  bright, 

Thy  golden  globes  arc  seen. 


The  Orange  Tree.  143 

By  glistening  lake  and  stream, 
Thy  dazzling  glories  gleam 
Bright  as  the  poet's  dream, 

When  stars  flame  bright  above; 
By  crystal  fount  and  sea, 
Like  pious  devotee, 
We  tender  unto  thee 

Sweet  tribute  of  our  love. 

When  haply  far  from  home, 
Our  wayward  children  roam, 
Thy  gleaming  golden  dome 

Shall  beckon  like  a  star; 
Thy  form  shall  haunt  their  dreams, 
As  willows  haunt  the  streams — 
As  dying  sunset  beams, 

The  mountain  top  afar. 

Still  in  each  perfumed  gale, 
Still  o'er  each  hill  and  dale, 
Still  o'er  each  sleeper  pale, 

Forever  sigh  and  wave; 
Still  whisper  unto  me, 
O,  mystic  orange  tree  ! 
Of  immortality 

And  hope  beyond  the  grave. 

Fair  queen  of  fairy  land  ! 
Beside  the  western  strand, 
Wave  still  thy  magic  wand, 

In  spotless  robe  and  clear; 
While  time  the  years  assure, 
Thy  glory  shall  endure 
And  deck  with  fragrance  pure 

The  altar  and  the  bier. 


144  To  tJic  Moon. 


TO    THE    MOON. 

Pale,  pallid,  pulseless,  lifeless,  spectral  sphere! 

Vague  wreck  of  matter  'mid  eternal  space; 
Changeful,  yet  changeless  ever,  year  by  year, 

What  nameless  horror  haunts  thy  ghastly  face? 

Did  some  mad  comet,  in  his  reckless  race 
Through  space  infinite,  in  thy  path  uprcar, 

And,  shriveling  all  thy  being,  leave  no  trace 
Of  joyous  life  to  evermore  appear — 
Nought  but  a  void  of  everlasting  fear? 

What  wrath  almighty,  sudden  smote  thce  sore, 

Or  what  fell  fires  of  fury  scorched  thy  plains? 
What  fierce  convulsions  shook  thy  inmost  core, 

And  dried  thy  life-blood  in  thy  pulsing  vein;  ? 

What  fevered  thirst,  what  fiery  throes  and  pains 
Drank  all  thy  seas,  from  shriveled  shore  to  shore — 

Or  spasms  volcanic  rent  thy  mountain  chai; 
Then  left  thcc  cold,  their  fitful  tremors  o'er, 
A  lifeless  phantom-waste  forevermorc? 

Cold  spectre,  gazing  with  thy  vacant  stare, 

What  awful  memory  of  the  mighty  past 
Hath  stamped  its  terror  in  thy  swooning  glare — 

What  nightmare  dream  of  horror  holds  thcc  \ 

What  everlasting  fear  its  reflex  cast 
O'er  thy  cold  face  its  shadow  of  despair, 

To  brood  o'er  all  thy  confines  dim  and  vast — 
Thy  caverncd  depths,  thy  shuddering  summits  bare — 
Thou  lifeless  phantom  of  the  soundless  air? 

Of  God's  grand  system  seeming  scarce  a  part, 

Yet  moving  in  obedience  to  His  will, 
Like  some  crushed  spirit  in  life's  busy  mart, 

In  ghostly  hush,  pale,  spiritless,  and  still, 


Memorial  Poem. 

In  whose  dead  soul  no  sudden,  gladsome  thrill 
E'er  stirs  the  life-blood  with  a  quickening  start — 

Oblivious  of  earth's  dreams,  of  good  or  ill, 
How  like  some  hopeless,  pulseless  human  heart 
Where  passion's  fires  arc  dead  and  cold,  thou  art! 


MEMORIAL   POEM. 


[Written  for  Frank  Bartlett  Post,  G.  A.  R.,  Los  Angeles,  on  occasion  of  their  annual 
ceremonial  exercises,  May  30,  1883.     Read  by  Miss  Nellie  Thornton.] 


Sleep,  comrades,  sleep  !     No  hostile  tread 

To-day  invades  your  peaceful  camp; 
No  more  is  heard  war's  thunders  dread, 

Or  serried  legions'  martial  tramp. 
No  more  the  bugle's  reveille 

Awakes  from  slumber  blest  and  deep, 
To  bid  love's  tender  visions  flee 

At  danger's  call.     Sleep,  comrades,  sleep ! 

Rest,  noble  heroes  of  the  Blue  ! 

No  more  to  arms  the  trumpet  calls, 
Where  banners  wave,  O,  tried,  and  true ! 

Here  but  love's  rain  in  pity  falls: 
Here,  once  again,  we  come  to-day, 

With  grateful  hearts  and  reverent  feet, 
Upon  your  sacred  graves  to  lay 

Our  floral  tributes  soft  and  sweet. 

The  cannon  rusts  lip-sealed  and  dumb 

Upon  the  mountain  and  the  plain; 
Nor  bugle-call  nor  roll  of  drum 

Shall  ever  wake  to  arms  again; 
Nor  thunder  peals  of  combat  deep, 

Shall  ever  stir  your  calm  repose; 
Soft  be  your  beds  and  sweet  your  sleep 

Beneath  the  laurel  and  the  rose. 


146  Memorial  /' 

The  scars  arc  fading  from  the  earth, 

The  bastions  crumble  to  decay; 
All,  save  your  deeds  of  deathless  worth, 

Is  passing  like  a  dream  away. 
The  terrors  of  the  gloomy  night, 

Arc  buried  in  the  past's  deep  grave, 
.And  glory's  halo  sheds  its  light 

O'er  all  the  land  ye  died  to 

No  more  death's  bitter,  pelting  storm, 

Kach  soldier-heart  may  boldly  dare; 
No  more  in  pride  each  manly  form 

Shall  face  death's  hail  with  bosom  bare. 
v  only  Peace  with  gentle  hands, 

Wi'.h  flowers  the  warrior  camps  bestrew, 
And  daughters  of  a  grateful  land, 

With  crystal  tears  your  graves  bedew. 

Ye  answer  not  at  call  of  roll, 

land  no  more  in  serried  line; 
On  deathless  Fame's  immortal  scroll 

Your  deeds,  like  stars,  in  silence  shine. 
On  earthly  fields  we  meet  no  m 

No  more  on  mountain  height  and  plain, 
I'ntil  upon  the  other  sh 

We  form  our  broken  ranks  again. 

rp,  comrades,  sleep!      The  skies  are  blue, 

The  clouds  of  danger  passed  away; 
Our  flag  floats  free,  our  hearts  are  true, 

Our  country  basks  in  Glory's  ray. 
I  I  ere,  o'er  your  hallowed,  s.t< 

Shall  Honor  still  her  vigil  keep 
Forever,  while  her  banner  waves 

O'er  Freedom's  land.    Sleep,  comrade  .,  ^lecp! 


Montecito. 
MONTECITO. 


[THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  BIG  GRAPEVINE] 

[The  "Legend  of  the  Montecito  Grapevine"  runs  briefly  thus:  A  century  ago  a  grape- 
cutting  was  presented  to  a  Spanish  seiiorita,  by  her  lover,  as  a  riding  whip,  which  she 
planted  at  his  request,  and  this  memento  of  love  developed  into  the  great  vine.] 

Where  the  billows  gleam  and  glisten, 

And  the  mountains  o'er  the  main 
Bow  their  solemn  heads  to  listen 

To  the  ocean's  grand  refrain, 

Where  the  sunset  longest  lingers 

To  caress  the  purple  lands, 
Planted  by  love's  fairy  fingers, 

Lo  !  the  Monarch  Grapevine  stands. 

Nestled  'neath  the  lofty  mountains, 

Canopied  'neath  graceful  oaks, 
Lies  the  vale  of  Montecito, 

Hidden  by  their  glossy  cloaks. 

Long  ago — so  runs  the  story — 

When  the  Padres  gave  command, 
And  the  Missions  in  their  glory, 

Ruled  in  peace  the  pleasant  land, 

In  the  peaceful  Western  Aidcn*— 

So  the  mystic  legend  goes — 
Bloomed  a  young  and  lovely  maiden, 

Fairer  than  Castilian  rose. 

As  the  sparkling  mountain  torrent 

Through  the  valley  swiftly  pours, 
Through  her  veins  the  crimson  current 

Of  the  old  Conquistadores. 

*\Vestcrn  Aidcn— Los  Angeles. 


148  Montccito. 

And  her  lover  true  and  tender, 
Graceful  as  the  mountain  pine; 

Like  the  olive  dark  and  slender — 
She  the  trusting,  clinging  vine. 

And  her  love,  like  precious  jewel, 
All  his  life  with  glory  crowned, 

But  her  parents,  cold  and  cruel, 
On  her  lover  sternly  frowned. 

Coldly  looked  they  on  her  lover ; 

He  was  poor  and  they  were  proud, 
And  their  loves  were  shrouded  over 

As  the  sky  by  threatening  cloud. 

Then  it  came — the  lovers'  parting; 

He  in  search  of  wealth  to  roam, 
She  with  parents  stern  departing, 

Seeking  far  another  home. 

Sad  and  tender  was  their  parting 
In  the  whispering  twilight  air; 

She  at  fancied  dangers  starting, 
Like  the  timid,  startled  hare. 

One  small  branch  his  hand  did  sever, 
From  the  trailing  vine  abo 

Bidding  her  to  keep  it  ever— 
Kmblcm  of  undying  love — 

Bidding  her  to  plant,  and  cherish 
Ever  while  it  lived  and  grew; 

Constant  still,  though  life  should  perish, 
Vowing  ever  to  be  true. 

Many  days,  past  silver)'  fountains, 
Many  days  where  whispering  sea 

Kiss  the  feet  of  lordly  mountains, 
Fanned  by  ocean's  gentle  biv 


Montecito.  149 

Journeyed  still  the  lovely  maiden, 

Burdened  with  love's  hopes  and  fears; 

And  the  vine  was  moistened  ever 
By  her  softly  falling  tears. 

Ivlany  aays  of  weary  travel, 

Many  days  of  toil  and  sun, 
Over  sands  and  flinty  gravel, 

And  the  weary  march  was  done. 

While  with  love  her  bosom  panted, 

And  the  rosy  day  grew  pale, 
There  the  vine  of  love  was  planted, 

In  the  Montecito  Vale. 

Here  her  prayers  for  lover  given, 

Mingled  with  love's  tears  divine, 
Irell  like  gentle  dews  from  heaven, 

On  the  budding,  infant  vine. 

Every  eve,  when  twilight  faded, 

Fleeing  o'er  the  purple  main, 
Sat  beneath  her  vine  o'ershaded, 

Sobbing  like  the  wintry  rain. 

Days  to  weary  months  were  lengthened, 

Months  were  lengthened  into  years; 
And  the  vine  grew,  ever  strengthened 

By  the  maiden's  falling  tears. 

Forth  it  stretched  its  tendrils  tender, 

Reaching  out  on  every  hand, 
And  it  grew  in  strength  and  splendor 

'Till  it  shadowed  all  the  land. 

Long  the  maiden  watched  and  waited 

When  the  stars  looked  from  above, 
Like  the  lonely  dove  unmatcd, 

Mourning  for  her  absent  love; 


1 50  Mo  n  tec  i to. 

And  when  dew-drops  blazed  and  glistened, 

cd  her  lover's  name  and  sighed ; 
Bent  her  lovely  head  and  listened, 
But  the  moaning  seas  replied. 

O'er  her  young  life,  cold  and  dreary, 
Dark  and  still   the  shadows  lay, 

And  her  heart  grew  weary — weary 
Waiting  for  the  promised  day. 

Still  she  watched,  and  wept  in  sorrow, 
And  her  bloom  was  fading  fast, 

Yearning  ever  for  the  morrow— 
And  he  came —  at  last,  at  la 

Came  with  golden  treasures  lad 

From  the  far  Sierra  lone, 
To  his  vine,  and  constant  maicK 

Came  and  claimed  them  for  his  own. 


Four-score  years  have  bloomed  and  faded, 
Vanished  with  their  hopes  and  fears, 

Since  the  earth  its  leaves  first  shaded, 
Watered  by  love's  holy  tears. 


it  stands  in  gleaming  In 
I'tcilf      in    weet  Nature's  plan, 

y  t(  ar  a  purple  cluster, 
Making  glad  the  heart  of  man. 

Side  by  side  the  constant  lo\  - 

Long  have  slumbered  with  the  just; 

Mossy  time  their  memory  cox 

And  the  lu-arts  that  loved  arc  dust. 


Mono. 

Still  the  vine  in  beauty  vernal, 
O'er  their  ashes  sheds  its  bloom, 

Emblem  meet  of  love  eternal, 
Living  still  beyond  the  tomb. 

Ever  spread,  O,  glorious  token  ! 

With  thy  clustering  fruit  above, 
With  thy  promise  still  unbroken — 

Emblem  still  of  Faith  and  Love. 

Ever  live  in  song  and  story, 

Spreading  still  thy  branches  o'er, 

Like  a  martyr's  crown  of  glory, 
Gleaming  bright  forevermore. 


MONO. 


Stern,  the  giant  mountains  frown 
On  the  deserts,  looking  clown, 
Where  the  leagues  of  ashy  brown 

Stretch  away; 

Seared,  and  swept  by  fiery  scath, 
Shivered  in  the  earthquake's  path, 
Relic  of  Almighty  wrath 

Passed  away. 

There,  the  wheeling  column  halts 
In  its  spectral  solemn  waltz ; 
And  the  changeful  mirage  false, 

Sheds  its  gleam, 
O'er  the  desert's  baleful  glare, 
Through  the  quivering,  throbbing  air; 
Death  and  danger  everywhere 

Reign  supreme. 


15-  Mono. 


There  the  lift  es  sleep, 

Where  no  mourner  comes  to  weep ; 
Silence  utter,  dread  and  deep, 

Mocks  the  day; 

And  tHc  sad  winds  moan  at  night, 
In  their  dreary,  lonely  flight, 
Lingering,  pausing  in  affright, 

As  to  pray. 

There,  stark  nature,  'mid  their  sighs, 
Dead  and  all  unburicd  lies; 
Staring  wide,  with  stony  eyes, 

Far  before: 

Horror  in  their  haunting  glare, 
Fixed  as  in  death's  last  despair, 
On  the  mirage-painted  air, 

Quivering  o'er. 

There  the  raven  flaps  his  wings 
O'er  the  noxious,  deadly  springs, 
Where  death's  angel  mutely  flings 

Wide  his  arms; 

There,  the  phantom,  silver-crowned, 
Lures  her  votaries,  fastly  bound, 
With  her  bugle's  siren  sound, 

To  her  charms. 

There,  the  dead  volcanoes  stand, 

Leaning  o'er  the  ghastly  land, 

Like  grim  conquerors,  stern  and  grand, 

Cold  and  gl; 

Like  ambition's  lava  flow, 
Quenched  their  molten  fiery  glow, 
Stilled  each  fierce  convulsive  throe, 

Ages  p 


The  Captivity.  153 

There,  the  plains  of  alkali 
Gleam,  reflecting  back  the  sky — 
Mirror  back  each  mountain  high, 

Peak  and  crag; 

There,  the  sunset's  dying  gleams, 
Flashing  far  its  dazzling  beams, 
From  each  summit  backward  streams, 

Like  a  flag. 

Land  of  phantom  mirage  mocked, 
Land  of  desert,  earthquake  rocked, 
Land  of  treasure,  mystery  locked, 

Dark  and  fell; 

Land  of  fleeting  smiles  and  tears, 
Ever  cheating  manhood's  years, 
Swift  repeating  hopes  and  fears, 

Fare-thce-well ! 


THE  CAPTIVITY. 


Where  the  rivers  of  Babylon  swept, 
The  captives,  in  loneliness,  wept, 

Their  harps  on  the  willows  were  hung ; 
With  sobbing  and  choking  of  sighs, 
With  veiling  of  mists  of  the  eyes — 

The  songs  of  their  fathers  unsung. 

Before  their  fond  memories  rose 
A  vision  of  Lebanon's  snows — 

Her  cedars  wide-spreading  and  tall ; 
Of  valley  and  olive-crowned  height, 
Of  Canaan's  fair  fields  of  delight, 

Of  temple,  and  city  and  wall ; 


154  The  Captivity. 

Of  mountain,  and  valley,  and  plain, 
Of  wine-press,  and  vineyard,  and  grain, 

Of  reapers  that  sang  in  the  morn, 
In  chorus  full,  hopeful  and  strong, 
Far-ringing  the  harvest-time  song — 

And  gleaners  that  gleaned  in  the  corn. 

Of  Jordan's  swift  race  to  the  sea, 
Of  mirror-like  bright  Gallilcc, 

Of  pasture-lands  smiling  and  wide, 
Where  Jacob  had  roamed  with  his  flocks, 
And  Kphraim  hail  watched  from  his  ro 

And  prophets  had  pondered  and  died. 


How  hungered  their  hearts  with  desires, 
Again  for  the  graves  of  their  sires 

Their  altars  and  of  cost; 

For  Judca  humbled  in  dust. 
Defiled  by  the  conqueror's  lust, 

For  Zion,  the  loved  and  the  : 


They  thought  of  her,  queenly  and  proud, 
Ere  prostrate,  and  humble,  and  b.  >\ved 

rath  the  Assyrian's  rod; 
Ere  trampled  by  rapine  and  ruth, 
Ere  torn  from  the  home  of  their  youth — 
The  land  cf  their  country  and  God. 

Till  over  each  famishing  soul, 
As  waves  of  the  ocean  that  roll, 

The  waters  of  bitterness  swept; 
Full  chastened  and  meek  were  the  proud; 
With  faces  averted  and  bowed, 

The  children  of  Israel  wept. 


Such  Is  Life.  155 


A  mist-veil  o'ershrouded  their  eyes, 
As  clouds  overshadow  the  skies; 

The  dream  of  their  childhood  was  o'er; 
No  song  of  thanksgiving-  they  sung, 
Their  harps  on  the  willows  were  hung, 

Their  hearts  were  full  heavy  and  sore. 


SUCH    IS    LIFE. 


As  the  dew  upon  the  grass, 
As  the  leaf  upon  the  stream, 

As  the  winds  that  sigh  and  pass, 
As  a  swiftly  fading  dream ; 

As  the  flowers  that  bloom  and  fade, 
Transient  things  that  come  and  flee, 

Phantoms  pale,  that  seek  the  shade- 
Such  is  life,  and  such  are  we. 

As  a  ship  upon  the  main, 

Borne  by  prosperous,  gentle  gales, 
Freighted  full  with  precious  gain, 

Wide  we  spread  our  flowing  sails ; 
Struggling  'mid  the  storm  and  dark, 

Shipwrecked  sailors  on  the  sea, 
Clinging  to  Hope's  shattered  bark — 

Such  is  life,  and  such  are  we. 

As  the  traceless  arrow  flies, 

As  the  comet's  fiery  face 
Glares  upon  the  midnight  skies, 

Vanishes  and  leaves  no  trace; 
Evanescent  as  the  foam 

.On  the  restless  troubled  sea; 
Dreamers  vain  of  things  to  come- — 

Such  is  life,  and  such  are  we. 


1 56  May. 


MAY.. 

Flowers  will  bloom,  when  we  are  gone, 

In  sweet  May; 

And  the  skies  will  flush  at  dawn, 
And  the  soft  winds  kiss  the  lawn, 
And  the  bright  stream  hurry  on, 

As  to-day. 

Some  shall  wander,  some  shall  sleep, 

Far  away; 

O'er  bright  skies  dark  storms  shall  sweep, 
O'er  warm  hearts  a  chill  shall  creep, 
Some  shall  smile  and  others  weep, 

As  to-day. 

Traitor  hearts  shall  still  forsake, 

Still  betray; 

Trusting  hearts  in  sorrow  break, 
Silent  flowers  the  night  winds  shake, 
Clouds  be  mirrored  in  the  lake, 

As  to-day. 

Soon  death's  night  shall  spread  its  gloom 

O'er  our  clay; 

And  the  flowers  shall  shed  their  bloom, 
And  the  rose  its  sweet  perfume 
O'er  each  lowly  sleeper's  tomb, 

As  to-day. 

With  life's  sweet  shall  mingle  gall, 

Grave  with  gay; 
To  her  mate  the  dove  shall  call, 
Joy  and  sorrow  come  to  all; 
Kingdoms  rise  and  empires  fall, 

As  to-day. 


Ode  to  the  Sun.  157 


Still  shall  merry  throngs  serene 

In  their  play, 
Oft  renew  the  fairy  scene; 
Feet  shall  patter  on  the  green, 
Happy  voices  hail  their  queen, 

As  to-day. 


ODE  TO  THE  SUN. 


Whence  is  thine  awful  light, 

Whence  come  thy  dazzling  beams, 
Whence  are  thine  everlasting  rays,  O,  Sun  ? 
Through  realms  of  misty  night 

Thy  glorious  radiance  streams, 
E'en  as  when  Time's  grand  march  was  first  begun. 

Thy  smile  is  on  the  earth, 

Thy  glory  gilds  the  seas, 
Thy  rising  splendors  halo  all  the  shore, 
As  when  the  stars  had  birth; 

Night's  awful  darkness  flees; 
Unchangeable  thy  light  forevermore. 

Thou  lookest  on  the  world, 

On  saints  and  sinners  all; 
On  hill  and  valley,  river,  sea  and  lake, 
Thy  banners  arc  unfurled; 

Things  hid  in  darkened  thrall 
Come  forth  from  night's  deep  slumber  and  awake. 

Thou  smilcst  on  the  East, 

Thou  smilest  on  the  West; 

On  time-worn  sepulchres,  and  graves  new-made; 
On  greatest  and  on  least, 

On  wicked  and  on  best, 
On  earth  when  daisies  bloom  and  roses  fade. 


Ode  to  the  Sun. 

Thou  lookcst  on  the  South, 

Thou  lookcst  on  the  North, 
Where  the  dread  Poles  their  awful  secret  ke> 
Upon  the  burning  mouth, 

Whence  madly  issue  forth 
The  crater-fires  upon  the  plain  to  leap. 

Thy  banners  arc  unfurled 

At  morn,  at  night,  at  noon, 
Where  the  tall  Himalayas  raise  their  bars 

Eternal  as  the  world, 

Up  to  the  trembling  moon, 
To  intercept  the  pathway  of  the  star-. 

Thy  march  is  o'er  the  wave, 

O'er  icy  polar  ll 

Where  'round  brave  J-Yanklin's  rest  the  mirage  plays, 
Where  Arctic  tempests  rave 

O'er  bitter  frozen  sir 
:  \vith  the  bright  Aurora's  quivering  i. 

O'er  Amazon's  wide  shore, 

Where  tropic  zcphy: 

orchcd  Sahara's  wastes  of  burning  sand; 
Where  Andean  condors  soar 

C'himborazo's  st< 
Thy  lace  of  glory  ilamcs  o'er  all  the  land. 

All  day  from  rosy  dawn, 

Tlie  I  lejanthus  turns 
In  adoration  mute,  to  watch  thy  course; 
And  when  thy  smile  is  gone, 

The  mosses  and  the  ferns 
A iv  wel  with  tears  from  gentle  nature's  source. 


The  Giving  of  the  Commandments.  159 

The  glory  of  thy  face, 

The  splendors  of  thy  smiles 

Flash  far  through  deep  unsounded  seas  of  gloom; 
Through  boundless  depths  of  space, 

The  countless  starry  isles, 
The  wheeling  spheres  thy  dazzling  rays  illume. 

Great  source  of  life  and  light ! 

Great  lamp  of  God  on  high  ! 
Great  monarch  of  the  realms  of  awful  space  ! 
Unto  thy  dazzling  sight, 

We  may  not  come  more  nigh; 
We  bow  in  awe  before  thy  flaming  face. 


THE   GIVING   OF   THE   COMMANDMENTS. 


"And  it  came  to  pass,  on  the  third  day,  in  the  morning,  that  there  were  thunders 
nnd  lightnings,  and  a  thick  cloud  upon  the  Mount,  and  the  voice  of  the  trumpet 
exceeding  loud;  so  that  all  the  people  that  was  in  the  camp  trembled. 

"And  Moses  brought  forth  the  people,  out  of  the  camp,  to  meet  with  God;  and 
they  stood  at  the  nether  part  of  the  Mount. 

"And  Mount  Sinai  was  altogether  on  a  smoke,  because  the  Lord  descended  upon  it 
in  fire;  and  the  smoke  thereof,  ascended  as  the  smoke  of  the  furnace,  and  the  whole 
Mount  quaked  greatly. 

"And  when  the  voice  of  the  trumpet  sounded  long,  and  waxed  louder  and  louder, 
Moses  spake,  and  God  answered  him  by  a  voice." — Exodus,  chap.  xxx. 

Amid  the  waste  and  lonely  lands, 

In  awe  and  silence  bound, 
Stood  Israel's  hushed  expectant  bands, 

In  circling  hosts  around — 
Where  heights  eternal  dream  and  nod, 
In  fear  and  awe,  to  meet  with  God. 

Deep  muttering  thunders  shook  the  base 

Of  Sinai's  awful  steep ; 
Around  his  cloud-wreathed  hidden  face 

The  fitful  lightnings  leap; 
A  dim  mysterious  terror  broods 
O'er  all  the  awe-struck  multitudes. 


1 6o  TV. .  ,  of  tltc  L  ~om  ma ndmcn ts. 

Dead  hung  the  lifeless  atmosphere; 

No  breath  of  ghostly  gale 
Crept  tip-toe  stealthily  in  fear 

To  lift  the  awful  veil  ; 
Dark,  utter  mystery,  complete, 

,ned  'round  Jehovah's  judgment  S 

Thick  darkness  clothed  the  Mount  about, 

As  midnight  veils  the  tomb; 
\Yhcn  fierce  and  sudden  from  without 

The  dread  mysterious  gloom, 
With  thrill,  that  shook  the  trembling  crowd, 
His  trumpet  pealed  exceeding  loud. 

Down  to  its  solid  granite  base, 
The  mountain  rocked  and  reeled; 

And  far  through  shuddering  murky  space, 
The  awful  thunders  pealed— 

From  lurid  depths  of  flame  and  smoke, 

A  voice  His  high  commandments  spoke. 

A  radiance  soft  o'er  hearts  long  scared, 
Blazed  as  the  stars  of  night; 

The  tracings  of  His  law  appeared 
Illumined  as  with  light, 

Deep  graven  as  with  burning  pen, 

Upon  the  darkened  souls  of  men. 

Unto  His  law,  His  holy  hand 

His  awful  M-al  had  set; — 
feet  in  that  dim  lonely  land 

1 1  is  erring  children  met; 
And  from  His  mighty  throne  in  heaven 
Fulfilled  tli«  to    '•      9  given. 


Vcra.  161 


VERA. 


A   RUSSIAN    ROMANCE. 


Dark  clouds  obscured  the  blazing  star 
Of  slumbering  Russia's  mighty  Czar, 

And  rose  the  awful  phantom  form 
Of  grim,  defiant,  threatening  war 
Upon  the  Danube's  banks  afar, 

That  boded  of  the  coming  storm. 
The  murmur  of  each  whispering  gale 

That  swept  from  far  Bulgaria's  plain 

Seemed  burdened  with  a  sigh  of  pain — 
Seemed  laden  with  a  dying  wail. 

From  Baltic  shores  to  Caspian  sands, 
From  faintest  East  to  farthest  West, 

The  slumbering  pulse  of  mighty  lands 
Is  burdened  with  a  sad  unrest. 

As  rushing  torrent,  eastward  sweeps 
A  mighty  empire's  martial  flow; 

As  crested  waves  from  storm-roused  deeps, 
The  war-stirred  ranks  toss  to  and  fro; 

As  thundering  billows  that  forsake 
The  bosom  of  the  boundless  main, 

Sweep  onward  in  their  wrath  to  break 
Upon  the  Balkan's  iron  chain. 


Long  years  before,  a  fairer  scene — 

A  maiden  full  of  graces  rare, 

Unvexed  by  sorrow,  sin,  or  care, 
In  beauty's  spring-time  smiled  serene. 

A  dreamy  splendor  as  of  skies 
When  melts  the  soft,  sweet,  breath  of  spring, 
And  birds  their  sweetest  matins  sing, 

Slept  in  her  tender  violet  eyes. 


1 62  Vcra. 

And  he,  her  lover,  in  his  eye 

No  shadow  dimmed  the  brightness  now; 

And  stamped  upon  his  noble  brow 
\\Vie  dreams  and  aspirations  high. 

Hope's  gorgeous  mirage  dazzling  shone 
O'er  glittering  life's  bright  gilded  scroll — 
His  love,  his  life,  his  heart  and  soul, 

His  Vcni's,  and  his  country's  own. 
1 1  is  dreams  were  of  a  glorious  hour — 

Of  comrades  true,  a  noble  band; 

A  country  proud;  a  sighing  land, 
J'Yced  from  a  tyrant's  iron  power. 

A  foolish  dream,  and  that  was  all; 
A  thousand  spirits  owned  his  sway, 
And  Vcra's,  ready  to  obey 

Their  slightest  wish  or  call. 
\\"ith  solemn  oath  at  midnight  scaled, 

A  thousand  lips  had  sworn  to  die, 

With  "Vcra!"  for  their  battle-cry — 
Their  watchword  on  the  field. 

What  need  a  reptile  to  portay, 

A  serpent  in  an  Eden  scene? 

A  man  that  walks  (iocl's  earth  serene, 
A  man  of  smiles  and  frowns,  to-day 

By  fortune's  harlot  bold  carcsM  d, 
He  counted  on  his  finger-tips 
A  score  of  ripe,  red,  rosy  lips 

lli^  own  in  lawless  lust  had  pressed. 
lli^  wiles,  a  thousand  woes  had  wrought— 

Pride  and  ambition  still  his  aim— 

A  man  who  counted  sin  and  shame 
And  woman's  honor,  virtue,  naught. 

And  still  hi»  fascinating  glare 
Like  deadly  serpent's  malice  fell, 
Afar  that  casts  its  fatal  spell, 

Hade  innocence  and  hope  despair. 


Vera.  163 


Alas,  fair  Vera,  for  that  day ! 

He  saw  her  in  her  maiden  dawn 

Free  as  the  soft-eyed,  graceful  fawn, 
And  marked  her  for  his  hellish  prey. 

In  place  and  courtly  favor  high, 
His  sway  a  trembling  people  own, 
A  guardian  of  a  tyrant's  throne; 

A  villain,  libertine,  and  spy. 


Soft  sighs  and  tender-waking  dawns, 
Bright  skies  and  velvet-tinted  lawns  ! 

A  dream  of  love's  enchantment  sweet, 
Where  Neva's  glancing  mirror  lies; 
Deep  quiet  of  the  earth  and  skies, 
Deep  rapture  of  the  soul  and  eyes; 

O !  earthly  paradise  complete. 

A  serpent's  trail  within  the  bower; 

A  parting  scene;  a  thrill,  a  kiss; 

A  gliding  serpent's  deadly  hiss; 

An  Eden  dream  of  love  and  bliss 
Had  perished  in  an  hour. 

Love's  radiant  sun  went  down  in  gloom; 
A  score  of  hands  with  ruffian  grasp 
Rude  tore  him  from  her  trembling  clasp, 

And  bore  him  to  his  awful  doom. 
Bound  to  the  cruel  post  he  stood; 

Strong  arms,  with  hellish  knouts,  assail, 

As  threshers,  with  resounding  flail, 
A  mangled  form  of  flesh  and  blood. 

More  cruel  than  the  cruel  Turk, 
His  tyrants  washed  their  hands  in  gore 
Till  his  numbed  senses  felt  no  more — 

The  lash  had  done  its  work. 


164  Vcra. 

The  hellish  swish  of  knout  was  hushed; 

Long,  long  he  lay  as  one  that  slept; 

But  death  came  not  with  pitying  step, 
To  free  the  spirit  bruised  and  crushed. 

Vague,  shadowy,  phantom  thought,  at  last 
Came  with  slow  strength's  returning  stream, 
And,  like  an  awful  nightmare  dream, 

Seemed  the  dim  memory  of  the  \ 
Scarce  could  his  fivblc  sense  unclasp 

Oblivion's  dark  encircling  fold, 

And  in  its  fearful,  trembling  hold 
The  awful  present,  dimly  grasp. 

Scarce  felt  the  galling  chains  that  bound 
His  form  to  other  outraged  forms, 
Or  heeded  of  the  cruel  storms 

That  raged  their  weary  march  around. 
Scarce  heeded  he  of  storm  or  rain, 

Amid  that  midnight  darkness  blind, 

That  wrapped  his  soul  and  heart  and  mind, 

( )f  sighing  Europe  left  behind, 
Where  stretched  the  far  Uralian  chain. 

And  listless  as  a  feeble  child's — 
That  wanders  on,  it  knows  not  why, 
To  reach  the  confines  of  the  sky — 

His  footsteps  pressed  the  Asian  wilds. 


Dim  wastes  and  sighing  solitudes, 
Dark  shadows,  and  Siberian  woods, 

An  exile  dreaming  of  a  land 
That  lie  might  never  sec  again; 
Of  noble  aspirations  vain, 

Of  hope  deferred — a  waiting  band. 
Oh  !  keener  than  a  serpent's  fang, 
To  whom  hath  felt  the  deadly  pang 

Of  unavailing  vain  regret, 


Vera.  165 

When  on  life's  ocean  tempest-tossed, 
And  all  he  loved  on  earth  is  lost, 

And  the  bright  sun  of  hope  hath  set. 
Oh  !  silent  sorrow,  secret  nursed  ! 

Oh  !  hopeless  brooding  of  despair  ! 

With  no  kind,  pitying  heart  to  share, 

With  none  to  know,  or  feel,  or  care, 
Of  all  earth's  bitter,  this  is  worst. 

Alone  !  alone  !  The  Arctic  stars, 

Like  sparkling  diamonds  thickly  sown, 
Look  downward  through  their  heavenly  bars 

In  pity  on  the  exile  lone. 
Year  after  year — no  words  nor  signs, 

And  day  by  day  on  Lena's  banks, 

He  watched  the  tall,  thick,  darkening  ranks 
Of  sombre,  silent,  gloomy  pines. 

Night  after  night  saw  Arctic  skies, 
Lit  up  by  weird,  electric  fire; 

Saw  glorious  forms  like  dreams  arise, 
Then  pale  their  splendors  and  expire; 

Vast,  crimson  curtains  closing  in, 
Dim,  shadowy,  phantom  shapes  unfold 
Bright,  burnished  draperies  of  gold, 

As  if  to  hide  a  world  of  sin. 

And  they  together,  side  by  side, 

Might  haply  wander  nevermore 

By  darkening  Baltic's  sighing  shore, 
Or  dreamy  Neva's  silvery  tide. 

And  brooding  thus,  into  his  soul, 
Long  shadowed  by  despair  and  gloom 
Deep  as  the  darkened,  raylcss  tomb, 

A  wild,  resistless  longing  stole. 
Oh  !  that  his  dreamless  dust  might  lie, 

Of  Russia's  glorious  dust  a  part; 


1 66  Vera. 

That  he  might  lay  his  weary  heart 
On  ku^i.i's  sacred  soil  and  die! 

krsi-t!ess  as  the  ocean's  tide, 
A  swift  o'ermastcring  impulse  swept 
His  darkened  soul  that  long  had  slept, 

.  ;ives  o'er  storm- swept  waters  wide. 
And  ere  the  night  was  chased  by  day, 

1  Ie  turned  with  stern,  determined  face 

Toward  the  boundless  desert  space, 
And  southward,  westward,  took  his  way. 


That  weary  march,  what  boots  to  tell 
The  toils  and  dangers  that  bcfel  ? 
O'er  the  dim  desert's  sandy  floor, 
By  sighing  Aral's  lonely  shore 
His  weary  journey  led  him  on, 
At  twilight  dim,  and  purple  dawn. 

1  le  saw  the  sun  at  evening  set 
On  many  a  strange  and  savage  land, 
In  far  Bokhara  and  Khokand, 

On  gilded  dome  and  minaret. 
Along  the  weary  Caspian  waste 
With  longing  heart  and  toilsome  basic, 
Through  wild  Circassi.Ys  wildest  -lens, 
Through  lonely  Azoff's  loneliest  fens 

His  weary  footsteps  onward  pre- 
And  when  the  sunset  glories  burmd, 
1  li>  pallid  face  was  ever  turned 

With  eager  longing  to  the  West. 

Wayworn  and  weary,  by  a  stream 

Soft  murmuring  on,  he  paired  to  rest; — 

A  glint — a  glano-:   \\  .1 1  it  ;i  dream  ? 

His  .suriied  vi -ion  caught  the  gleam 
Of  flashing  sabres  in  the  West. 


Vera.  167 

Bright  glancing  in  the  sunset  ray, 
A  «ea  of  bayonets  heave  and  sway; 
The  serried  columns  drift  away 

Like  clouds  from  thrall  released; 
Like  billows  toward  the  rock-ribbed  coasts, 
The  bannered  might  of  Russia's  hosts 

Roll  onward  toward  the  east. 
Long,  long  he  watched  that  martial  sweep, 
As  rushing  river  broad  and  deep, 

In  surging  might  roll  past, 
And  mingling  with  its  rushing  force, 
He  drifted  with  its  torrent-course 

Like  leaf  on  river  cast. 
His  country's  tale  of  wrong  he  heard, 
And  patriot-rage  his  bosom  stirred 

As  stirs  the  sea,  the  wind; 
Forgotten  were  the  years'  blank  space, 
Forgotten  exile,  wrong,  disgrace, 

The  past  was  all  behind. 

He  only  heard  his  country's  call 

To  break  the  bands  of  Moslem  thrall, 

Where  Christian  hands  uprearcd 
Imploring,  beckoned  Russia's  aid 
To  free  from  burdens  heavy  laid  — 

From  heavier  burdens  feared. 

Beneath  a  green  tree's  shelt'ring  shade 
He  seized  a  stricken  soldier's  blade  — 

A  fire  in  heart  and  eye; 
FIcnccforth  to  dare;  a  leader  born, 
As  one  who  held  his  life  in  scorn, 
He  sought  to  lead  each  hope  forlorn  — 

To  conquer,  and  to  die. 


The  persecutions,  hopes  and  fears, 
The  woe  and  anguish  that  befcl 


1 68  Vera. 

The  gentle  Vcra  through  those  years 

Of  wear}'  waiting,  who  shall  tell?    • 
The  long,  long  watch  through  prison  bars, 

\Yhcn  daylight  dawned,  and  twilight  waned, 
Where  but  a  glint  of  sun  or  stars 

Told  yet  of  freedom  uncnchained; 
Still  importuned  by  gilded  lust, 

To  purchase  freedom  with  her  smiles, 
She  kept  her  soul's  proud,  sacred  trust, 

And  spurned  the  tyrant-tempter's  wiles; 
And  still  with  spirit  unsubdued, 

Through  summer's  bloom  and  winter's  snow, 
She' watched  in  weary  solitude 

The  waning  seasons  come  and  go. 
From  God's  fair  landscape  barred  and  banned, 

Within  a  cruel  tyrant's  power, 
Deep  'mid  the  southern  Cossack  land 

She  waited  freedom's  coming  hour, 
Until  one  eve,  within  her  room 

She  sat  beside  her  prison  bars, 
And  watched  amid  the  deepening  gloom 

The  tender  glory  of  the  stars; 
And  floating  back  on  Fancy's  wing, 

She  sang  a  lay,  forgotten  long, 

A  dreamy,  simple,  sweet,  sad  song, 
In  happier  days  she  loved  to  sing. 


SONG. 

Sighs  are  for  brides  new-made, 
For  fancies  free,  enchained, 
For  freedom  on  Love's  altar  laid, 

1  or  cup  of  bliss  half-drained; 
For  >hadows  bright,  that  ilee 
As  bubbles  o'er  the  tide; 

gilded  bark  launched  full  and  free 
Upon  Life's  ocean  wide. 


Vera.  169 


"  Tears  are  for  memories  dead, 
*  For  nuns  and  widows  lone, 
For  joys  and  hopes  forever  fled, 

For  pleasures  swiftly  flown; 
For  hopes  that  flushed  to  die, 

Sweet  buds  and  withered  flowers, 
For  wandering  zephyrs  soft,  that  sigh 
No  more  amid  Love's  bowers. 

"  Dreams  are  for  maidens  free, 

That  raptured,  lean  and  gaze 
And  drift  o'er  Life's  enchanted  sea 

Soft  veiled  in  mystic  haze. 
Blow,  spicy,  tropic  gales ! 

Sing,  sailor,  free-heart  song; 
Unfurl  Love's  crimson,  silken  sails, 

And  speed  my  bark  along." 

Soft  stirred  by  memories  sad  and  sweet, 

Of  mingled  hope,  regret  and  pain, 
As  murmuring  pines  when  zephyrs  greet, 

Her  mother's  song  she  sang  again  — 
A  gentle,  plaintive,  mournful  air 

That  in  the  trembling  twilight  deep, 
When  weary  with  the  day's  long  care 

Had  often  lulled  her  soul  to  sleep. 

SONG   OF   THE   ROSE. 


"  Red  Rose,  in  thy  summer  bloom, 
Shedding  soft  thy  sweet  perfume, 
Standing  in  the  twilight  hush 
Peerless  in  thy  crimson  flush, 
Queen  of  all  the  flowery  train, 
Sad  imploring  Time  in  vain, 
Shrinking  from  the  Frost-King's  breath 
Shuddering  at  his  kiss  of  death, 
Clinging  to  the  trembling  bough  — 
How  like  fading  beauty,  thou  ! 


170  Vera. 

"Violet,  with  thy  soft  blue  eyes, 
Smiling  'ncath  the  azure  skies, 
Swooning  in  thy  trembling  bliss, 
When  the  night-dews  tender  kiss, 
Opeing  soft  thine  eyes  at  dawn, 
On  the  sparkling,  dewy  lawn;  — 
With  the  sweet,  departing  spring 
Drooping,  fading,  withering; 
Ashcn-hucd  thy  lips  and  brow  — 
How  like  perished  beauty,  thou! 

"  Lily  bending  .o'er  the  stream, 
Dreaming  soft  thy  tender  dream, 
Sighing  when  the  zephyr  sighs, 
Dying  when  the  Summer  dies; 
Drooping,  sadder  day  by  day, 
Mourning  for  thy  perished  May, 
All  thy  sweetness  soft  exhaled, 
All  thy  glory  fled  and  paled;  — 
How  like  beauty's  fading  flower; 
How  like  maiden's  transient  dower!" 

E'en  as  she  ceased  the  sweet,  sad  song, 
The  hated  form  of  him  she  loathed 
With  jeweled  orders  decked  and  clothed, 
Cast  its  fell  shadow,  dark  and  strong. 

He  spoke:  "Fair  Vcra,  even  now 
Love's  hark  awaits  with  silken  sail 
Thy  spicy  breath's  soft-wafting  gale 

To  cleave  life's  ocean  with  its  prow. 
Why  sit  with  weary,  folded  hands, 
Why  sing  like  longing,  captive  bird, 
By  some  sweet  tropic  memory  stirred. 
Of  other  days  and  other  lands? 

Sweet  Vcra,  cease  to  dream  and  pine! 
A  sign,  a  smile,  a  word  from  thee 
And  I  thy  willing  slave  will  be — 
Speak  but  the  word!  go  forth,  be  free! 

And  wealth  and  power  and  state  arc  thine!" 


Vera. 

"Cease,  villain,  cease  thy  suit !"  she  said, 

"Full  well  I  know  your  treacherous  heart; 
Dissembler!  false  to  man  and  maid, 
Why  seek  to  swell  the  list  betrayed  ? 
Betrayer,  serpent,  spy — depart ! " 

Swift  from  his  lips  of  flattery  fled 

The  treacherous,  sycophantic  smile ; 
An  ashen  pallor  overspread — 
As  palls  the  features  of  the  dead — 

His  face,  sin-masked  with  art  and  guile. 

"Proud,  scornful  Vera,  hark,  beware! 

All  hope  of  rescue  here  is  vain. 
Since  all  my  power  you  scorn  and  dare, 
Dream  on,  and  dreaming,  reap  despair  ! 

I  go,  but  I  return  again  !" 

He  spoke,  and  lo !  a  sudden  clang 

Of  sabres,  clashing,  smote  his  ear, 
Swift-flashing  pistol  shots  out-rarig; 
A  dozen  rescuers  sudden  sprang 

The  doorway  through ;  the  way  was  clear. 
"Fly,  Vera,  fly  !"  the  leader  said, 
"While  night  our  swift  escape  may  aid; 

Full  soon  the  hungry  Cossack  wolves, 

Will  scent  the  footprints  of  their  prey; 
Quick  !  quick,  for  freedom,  mount  and  ride; 
The  night  is  dark,  the  world  is  wide; 

Our  hearts  arc  filled  with  stern  resolves; 
Free  curb  and  rein!  away,  away  !" 


171 


Morn  on  a  wide  and  boundless  plain, 
Before  them  stretched  the  dim  Ukraine, 
And  in  the  gray,  uncertain  dawn 


Vera. 

That  half  unclosed  her  curtain-blind, 
Swift  as  the  rushing,  roaring  wind, 
Like  phantoms  weird  a  league  behind, 
A  hundred  Cossacks  thundered  on. 

A  mirror  gleam  ;  a  river  wide ; 

A  shadowy  wood  beyond  the  tide; 

An  instant's  halt;  the  leader  cried 

As  pointing  to  the  darkling  west, 
"Spare  not  your  steed  !  away,  away! 
Wait  not  for  us ;  we  stay,  we  stay  ! 
On,  on  !  Halt  not,  until  you  may 

Beyond  the  Truth  in  safety  rest !" 

A  sudden  peal  of  death  rings  out; 
A  sudden  reel  in  wreck  and  rout, 
And  steeds  all  riderless  and  wild, 

Wheel,  rushing  madly  o'er  the  plain ; 
And  fierce  contending,  hand  to  hand, 
With  shouts  of  hatred,  band  to  band; 
And  banks  with  battle-wreck  up-piled — 
Deep  dyed  the  stream,  with  crimson  stain. 

Again  they  rally,  quickly,  all, 
Obedient  to  their  leader's  call — 
The  charging  troopers  sudden  fall 

As  fall  from  trees  their  ripened  fruit- 
As  leaves  before  the  autumn  frost 
Death-stricken,  downward,  shuddering,  1 
But  not  a  baffled  rider  crossed 

That  fatal  river  in  pursuit 

League  after  league  Hies  swiftly  past, 
Until  a  vision  bursts  at  last 

Upon  her  startled  gaze ; 

fore  her  sweeps  a  glittering  throng, 
As  mighty  river  deep  and  strong, 

With  burnished  pomp  ablaze. 


Vcm.  173 


Dim  toward  the  distant  Danube's  coasts, 
The  banners  of  the  gleaming  hosts 

In  distance  disappear; 
Unnoticed,  as  they  sweep  along, 
She  mingles  with  the  mighty  throng 

Of  followers  in  the  rear. 

Unknowing  each  of  other's  fate, 
Of  late  escape  from  tyrant  hate, 

The  lovers  drifted  on, 
Borne  on  that  mighty  battle-stream, 
As  in  some  gorgeous  midnight  dream, 

Toward  the  Eastern  dawn. 

With  holy  Red  Cross  Sisterhood, 

To  nurse  the  sick,  to  staunch  the  blood 

Of  stricken  ones  she  vied ; 
And  where  the  battle-hail  fell  fast, 
And  war  its  gloomiest  shadows  cast, 

Death's  thunderbolts  defied. 

Where  fevered  lips  were  faint  athirst, 
Pier  gentle  hand  was  ever  first 

To  give  the  water  blessed ; 
And  hers  the  last  soft  tender  clasp, 
Within  his  trembling,  failing  grasp, 

The  dying  soldier  pressed. 


What  boots  to  tell  the  tale  once  more, 
Of  Russia's  deathless  triumph,  o'er; 
Of  how  her  dauntless  hosts  defied 
The  rushing  might  of  Danube's  tide? 
Of  gleaming  steel,  of  sabre's  glance, 
The  fierce  attack,  the  swift  advance ; 
How  Saint  Sophia's  dome  afar, 
Still  beckoned  eastward  like  a  star, 


1 74  Vera. 

Until  Istamboul's  waters  sweet, 

Imploring  laved  the  conqueror's  tect: 

The  story  of  the  deadly  inik% 

Of  bloody  Shipka's  dread  defiles; 

To  tell  again  the  fearful  tale 

Of  rifle-rain,  and  cannon-hail 

That  swept  that  gloomy,  frowning  path 

With  storm  of  death's  full  gathered  wrath. 

How  Skobolcff,  like  whirlwind,  swept 

The  land  while  its  defenders  slept, 

Till  like  a  lion  turned  at  bay, 

The  Turk  at  Plevna  barred  the  way. 

The  horrors  of  that  giant  fight, 
\Yhat  puny  pen  may  dare  to  write! 
I  low  through  that  awful  sea  of  blood, 
The  gentle  Red  Cross  Sisterhood 
'Mid  thunder  crash,  and  lightning  flame, 
Like  pitying  angels  softly  came. 
What  scene  of  terror  meets  their  eyes! 
Red  flames  illume  the  midnight  skies, 

And' dread  the  cannon's  thunder  peals 

Deep  'mid  the  quivering  smoke-pall's  veil; 
As  earthquake  shocked,  the  columns  sway, 
And  reel  and  n>ik  and  melt  away — 

As  ants  beneath  the  chariot  \vhc- 

They  perish  in  that  deadly  hail. 
The  decimated  ranks  arc  riveir 
As  oaks  by  thunderbolts  from  heaven, 

But  through  the  sulphurous,  ghostly  h;;/r, 
That  spreads  its  pall  o'er  earth  and  sky, 
As  men  that  Fair  and  Death  defy, 

They  seek  the  batteries'  vengeful  blaze. 
Vain,  vain  their  deeds,  heroic  all, 
They  melt  and  die  like-  flowers  in  Fall; 
Like  grass  by  harvest-sickle  mown, 
The  ranks  in  mighty  swaths  arc  stroun, 


Vera.  175 

And  soon  o'er  all  that  wreck  supreme, 

Dread  silence,  like  a  nightmare-dream, 

Broods  fearful,  save  when  fitful  stirred 

By  frenzied  groan,  or  dying  word 

Of  wounded  warrior,  stricken,  slain, 

Whose  manly  form  might  ne'er  again 

In  line  of  battle  proudly  stand, 

To  guard  the  banner  of  his  land. 

Upon  that  death-plain  Ivan  lay, 

While  ebbed  life's  crimson  tide  away; 

The  rifle-bullet's  malice  true, 

Had  pierced  his  bosom  through  and  through, 

And  frenzied  fancies,  vague,  unpent, 

Like  shadowy  phantoms,  came  and  went, 

And  over  heart,  and  soul,  and  brain, 

Death's  mirage  spread  its  gorgeous  train. 

And  here  the  lovers  met  at  last, 

When  all  life's  dreams  for  him  were  past. 

She  kissed  his  throbbing  forehead  hot 

And  called  his  name,  he  answered  not; 

His  darkling  vision  did  but  seem 

To  see  her  in  some  tender  dream 

Of  springtime  flush,  and  flowery  ways, 

'Mid  other  scenes,  and  other  days. 

Once  more  in  youth's  sweet,  tender  Spring 

He  heard  Hope's  beckoning  siren  sing; 

Once  more  he  stood  by  Neva's  tide, 

With  gentle  Vcra  by  his  side, 

And  love,  with  shining,  silken  thrall, 

Bound  each  to  each,  and  all  in  all, 

As  in  youth's  morn,  when  life  was  sweet, 

And  heart  to  heart  in  rapture  beat, 

And  earth  seemed  tinted  with  the  dyes 

Of  Eden's  sinless  Paradise — 

Then  sudden  struggled  pale  and  ghast, 

As  stirred  by  memories  of  the  past, 


V"** 

When  torn  from  tender  love's  embrace, 
Like  wretch  bereft  of  heavenly  grace, 
And  raved,  as  madly  striving  still 
To  thwart  the  tyrant's  savage  will. 
Once  more  he  felt  the  cruel  knout, 
While  taunting  demons  mocked  about; 
And  trod  with  fainting  footsteps,  slow, 
Siberia's  boundless  wastes  of  snow, 
Till  through  Death's  pitying,  opened  door, 
His  spirit  fled,  and  all  was  o'er. 


In  gentle  Vcra's  soul  that  hour 
Sweet  pity  died,  and  hate  held  power; 
Her  heart  was  buried  with  her  dead, 
And  all  of  woman's  weakness  fled; 
A  quenchless  thirst  for  tyrant  blood 
O'crswept  her  soul  with  raging  flood, 
And  burning  vengeance  from  that  day 
O'er  all  her  being  held  its  sway. 
Henceforth  was  hers  to  do  and  dare. 
To  hunt  the  tyrant  in  his  lair; 
To  scheme  and  plot  with  high  and  low, 
All  despots'  rule  to  overthrow, 
For  weal  or  woe,  and  in  all  thin; 
To  wage  eternal  war  with  kings; 
By  strength  or  stealth,  by  foul  or  fair, 
In  palace  barred,  in  open  air; 
To  haunt  him  with  a  constant  fear 
Of  death  unseen,  and  danger  near, 
And  awful  doom  impending  o'er, 
Till  life  should  seem  a  boon  no  more. 

What  needs  to  tell  of  hellish  bomb, 
Of  mighty  Alexander's  doom; 
Of  murderous  plottings  thick  and  fast, 
Each  one  more  deadly  than  the  last; 


Vera.  1 77 

How,  unrelenting,  mocking  Hate 
Still  sits  at  feast  and  palace  gate; 
A  threatening  monster,  hungry-eyed, 
Unmoved,  unawed,  unsatisfied, 
That  still  its  deadly  vigil  keeps, 
And  never  falters,  never  sleeps. 

Alas,  sweet  Vera,  once  so  fair, 

And  tender  in  life's  opening  dawn  ! 
The  helpless  tremor  of  despair, 

With  youth's  soft  flush  and  hope  is  gone. 
Dead  arc  love's  tender,  sweet  desires, 

Fell  withered  at  life's  springtime  start; 
But  not  the  fierce  consuming  fires 

Of  quenchless  hatred  in  her  heart. 

Like  ocean  surges  heave  and  roll 

The  fcver-throbbings  through  her  blood; 
And  filled  her  thirsting  tigress-soul 

With  hot  revenge's  lava  flood. 
Medusa-like,  no  love  to  kiss, 

The  ban  of  death  upon  her  name; 
Dread  serpents  'round  her  writhe  and  hiss 

And  dart  their  fiery  tongues  of  flame. 

Through  rifted  storm-clouds,  still  her  star 

Gleams  with  a  lurid,  ghastly  light, 
Lone  glimmering  'mid  depths  afar, 

Through  Anarchy's  dark-shrouded  night. 
Unconquered,  proucl,  defiant  still 

She  wanders  in  a  foreign  land, 
To  rule  with  dread  mysterious  will, 

Her  deadly,  sworn  assassin  band. 

Nerved  by  unsated  vengeance  fell, 

They  keep  their  oath  through  good  and  ill, 

As  pitiless  as  Dante's  Hell— 

Their  watchword,  "Death  to  Tyrants  !"  still. 


17)8 


With  deadly  terror's  threatening  frown, 
They  awe  the  weak  anil  trembling  son, 

Who  dares  not  wear  the  kingly  crown, 
By  warrior-sires  so  grandly  won. 

From  hate's  o'crflowing,  garnered  store, 
x  They  pay  the  son  in  blood  and  fire, 
With  interest  thrice  compounded  o'er, 
The  awful  debt  they  owed  the  sire. 

What  matters  vigil,  hunger,  pain  ; 

What  matters  exile,  knout,  disgrace  ? 
For  every  sworn  avenger  slain, 

A  thousand  others  take  his  place. 
What  matters  gallows-strangled  breath— 

Scourged,  mangled  forms  that  writhe  and  bleed  ? 
What  matter  prisons,  chains  and  death, 

To  those  who  sow  the  martyr-seed  ? 

Woe,  woe  to  sovereign,  throne  and  crown  ! 

Woe,  woe  to  princes  proud  and  vain  ! 
Woe,  woe  to  priestly  iule  and  gown  ! 

Woe,  woe  to  Russia's  wide  domain  ! 
The  midnight  torch's  lurid  gleam 

O'crspreads  her  skies,  a  stain  of  blood 
Deep  crimsons  Danube's  silver}-  stream, 

Ensanguines  Volga's  rushing  flood. 

O'er  all  her  cities,  hills  and  plains 
An  awful  shuddering-horror  broods, 

From  Mosc<  red  ;,ilded  fanes 

1*5  mighty  solitude. 

Woe,  woe  !  when  everlasting  hate 
Invades  the  order  of  all  things, 

And  haunts  the  palaces  of  State, 
To  hunt  the  lives  of  hated  Kings  ! 


"Sic  Transit?'  179 

Within  his  gilded  prison  walls, 

A  captive  Czar  in  splendor  pines, 
More  wretched  than  his  banished  thralls, 

Lone  hidden  in  Siberia's  mines. 
Still  where  the  bat  'mid  silence  flits, 

Skulks  stealthy,  Murder's  prowling  horde; 
And  Treachery  beside  him  sits 

At  solemn  fast,  and  festal  board. 
Vague  Terror's  ghastly,  gloomy  pall 

O'erspreads  his  Empire  far  and  wide; 
In  crowded  street,  and  banquet  hall 

Dark  spectral  shadows  flit  and  hide. 

They  haunt  each  lone,  and  busy  place, 

And  every  trembling  zephyr's  breath, 
That  kisses  Russia's  fevered  face, 

Is  burdened  with  the  whisper,  "Death!'' 
A  nightmare-horror  broods  above, 

And  nevermore  her  mighty  Czar 
Shall  dream  of  peace,  or  joy,  or  love, 

'Neath  blazing  sun,  or  gleaming  star. 
And  ne'er  again  shall  peace  abide, 

Until  his  mighty  land  is  free, 
From  Neva's  wave,  to  Amoor's  tide, 

From  Baltic's  brine  to  Aral's  sea. 


SIC  TRANSIT." 


Where  arc  the  mighty  ones, 

The  Cities  of  the  Past, 

That  sat  and  ruled  the  Nations  in  their  pride  ? 
Their  daughters  and  their  sons, 
Like  leaves  before  the  blast, 
Through  all  the  lands  arc  scattered  far  and  wide. 


^ 

It 


tTFIVB 


ISO  "Sif  Transit" 

Their  ashes  strew  the  plain— 

Their  glory  lies  in  dust— 
Their  bleaching  bones  bestrew  the  sighing  a 
And  nevermore  again, 

In  pride  and  pomp  and  lint, 
Shall  march  to  war  their  serried,  conquering  ho 

The  master  and  the  slave 

Ik-side  each  other  sleep  ; 
Their  dust  is  mingled  in  a  common  lot, 
In  one  forgotten  grave, 

And  chaos  dark  and  deep 
Broods  ever  o'er  the  lone,  deserted  spot. 

Proud  Troy,  and  purple  Tyre, 

No  more  with  regal  sway 
Rule  the  far  prostrate  nations  of  mankind ; 
Like  stubble  in  the  fire, 

Consumed  and  swept  away. 
No  sad  memorial  trace  is  left  behind 

Oblivion  hath  crept 

O'er  Babylon's  proud  walls, 
Her  palaces  that  rose  like  glory's  dream  ; 
Where  Israel's  children  v 

And  mourned  their  captive  thralls, 
And  hung  their  harps  beside  KuphrateV  stream. 

Low  lying  in  the  sand, 

Proud  Carthage  d:. 

Lone  and  forgotten  by  the  sobbing  sea; 
No  Dido  waves  her  wand 

And  wrings  her  hands  and  weeps, 
To  bid  her  1<  ;ain  to  t1 


"Sic  Transit."  181 

Beside  the  sleeping  Nile 

The  deadly  aspic  crawls, 

Where  dreamy  languor  soft  the  sense  beguiles ; 
No  Cleopatra's  smile, 

In  Alexandria's  halls, 
Lmcs  captive  Antonys  with  its  treacherous  wiles. 

The  spider  weaves  her  webs 

Within  Palmyra's  halls  ; 
O'er  Karnak's  palaces  the  sad  winds  sigh  ; 
Pcrscpolis  to  Thebes 

And  mighty  Memphis  calls, 
And  but  Time's  ghostly  echoes  give  reply. 

No  Grecian  warriors  leap 
To  arms  at  glory's  call; 
Nor  navies  sweep  the  blue  Egean  Sea  ; 
And  Sparta's  heroes  sleep, 
Unconscious  of  her  fall, 
Within  the  pass  of  red  Thermopylae. 

Thy  pride,  Jerusalem, 

Is  humbled  in  the  dust ; 

Thou  mourn'st  in  sorrow  for  thy  children  dead ; 
Rent  is  thy  garment's  hem — 

Stained  thy  fair  form  with  lust — 
In  sackcloth  clothed,  and  ashes  on  thy  head. 

Thy  Temple  proud,  laid  low, 

Thy  Gentile  foes  deride  ; 
Shorn  of  its  glory,  ccdarcd  Lebanon; 
No  queenly  Shebas  bow 

Their  heads  of  haughty  pride, 
To  drink  the  wisdom  of  great  Solomon. 


I  $2  Sir  John. 

'Nrath  architrave  and  dome, 

The  bat  at  twilight  flits 

Through  sad  Grenada's  cables  gray  with  age; 
And  withered,  palsied  Rome, 

Beside  the  Tiber  sits, 
And  mumbles  harshly  in  her  dotard  rage. 

Thy  triumphs  all  arc  o'er  ; 

Nor  captive  kings  and  queens 
Shall  grace  again  thy  gilded  pageants  choice; 
Thy  '  -'ire  no  more- 

No  more  thy  gorgeous  scenes — 
Nor  suppliant  nations  tremble  at  thy  voice. 

And  thus  the  cities  i 

And  thus  the  cities  fall  ; 

Awhile  they  dazzle  with  their  glories  bright; 
Then,  pale  as  evening  skies 
O'ercast  by  twilight  pall, 
And  fade  as  sunset  splendors  into  night. 


SIR  JOHN.* 

From  England's  shores  in  the  crimson  dawn 
Over  the  waters  sailed  Sir  John, 

When  the  signal  thunders  the  echoes  woke, 

With  his  staunch,  tried  ships,  and  his  hearts  of  oak ; 

Forth  from  the  sweet  warm  summer  bright, 
Into  the  gloom  of  the  Arctic  night; 

Holding  his  course  o'er  the  water-  far, 
Through  the  dark  night  to  the  Polar  Star; 

Holding  his  perilous  ice-bound  way, 
Through  the  frozen  channel  of  1'aflin  Bay; 

•Written  in  1874,  while  L:i'!y  I  r.mklm  w..s  pnMCttfaf  »>er  unwearied  search. 


Sir  John.  183 

Onward  with  white  wings  hurrying  fast, 
Where  the  icebergs  graze  the  leaning  mast: 

Braving  the  Frost  King's  deadly  wrath, 
Cleaving  asunder  his  icy  path, 

Till  his  staunch,  tried  ships,  and  his  gallant  crew, 
'Mid  foe  and  darkness  were  lost  to  view. 


His  lady  gazes,  with  rigid  lips, 
Watching  in  vain  for  his  coming  ships, 

The  icebergs  drift  on  their  southward  track, 
And  melt  from  view,  but  he  comes  not  back; 

And  the  ceaseless  years  go  on  and  on, 

But  they  bring  not  to  England's  shores,  Sir  John. 

Alas  !  for  the  graves  we  may  never  find, 
Alas  !  for  the  true  hearts  left  behind. 

Not  'neath  Westminster's  fretted  nave, 
Rest  all  the  ashes  of  England's  brave, 

Honored  and  crowned  for  victories  won, 
Resting  in  pomp  when  their  work  is  done; 

Not  where  the  dust  of  dead  ages  clings, 
Slumber  the  bones  of  her  noblest  kings — 

They  sleep  in  the  hush  of  the  tropic  zone 
In  the  palm's  soft  shade;  in  the  islands  lone 

That  doze  and  nod  o'er  the  coral  deep, 

Where  the  South  Wind  kisses  the  soul  to  sleep; 

They  sleep  in  the  thunder  of  Arctic  waves, 
Wfhcre  the  ice-floes  crash,  and  the  tempest  raves, 

Curtained  around  with  a  halo  bright, 

Through  the  depths  of  the  long,  long  polar  night, 


184  Conic  Again,  (icntlc  Rain. 

But  their  rest  i<  sweet  fur  their  work  is  done, 
And  their  slumber  deep  for  the  Crown  is  won. 


* 


The  ^easons  come  and  the  seasons  go, 
And  the  ice  goes  drifting  to  and  fro; 


se-.  flash  o'er  us,  and  disappear, 
Of  frozen  men  on  their  icy  bier 

Cold  and  white  in  the  Northland  far, 
Under  the  blaze  of  the  Polar  star; 

The  daylight  fades,  and  the  night  comes  on 
But  no  tidings  come  of  the  brave  Sir  John. 

But  where  he  sleeps  in  his  shroud  of  snow 
UndiT  his  star  we  may  never  know; 

Yet  in  the  twilight  at  close  of  day, 
Ye  who  supplicate-,  ye  who  pray, 

Pray  for  the  true  hearts  lost  and  gone, 
Pny  for  the  spirit  of  brave  Sir  John. 


COME  AGAIN,  GENTLE  RAIX. 


Come  again, 

Gentle  rain, 
Bringing  blessings  in  thy  train  t* 

Smiling  flowers, 

Rosy  bowers, 
Nature's  bridal  d«>\\i 

Leaf  of  tree, 
1  him  of  bee, 
Song-birds  gushing  melody, 

.ttcrfiy, 
Xcphyr's  sigh, 

nder,  a/ure  sky  ! 


Sequoia  Gigantea.  185 

Days  of  hope, 

Morns  that  ope 
Like  the  soft,  blue  heliotrope  ; 

Eves  like  this, 

Full  of  bliss, 
Tender  as  a  maiden's  kiss  ; 

Far  away, 

Shadows  play 
O'er  the  mountain,  stern  and  gray, 

Sunset  kissed, 

Through  the  mist, 
Like  the  purple  amethyst. 

Thick  amass, 

Tender  grass 
Springs  to  greet  you  as  you  pass ; 

Come  again, 

Gentle  rain, 
With  thy  fairy,  flowery  train. 


SEQUOIA  GIGANTEA. 


Kissed  into  being  by  a  smiling  clime, 

Rocked  in  thy  cradle,  grand  Sierra's  child, 

Far  from  the  haunts  of  hate,  ambition,  crime, 
Reared  'mid  the  freedom  of  the  forest  wild, 
In  peerless  beauty,  pure  and  undefilcd — 

Most  glorious  poem  of  unfettered  rhyme, 
That  ever  soul  of  poet  rapt  beguiled — 

Thou  standest  still,  the  sentry  of  all  time, 

Immeasurably  grand!  serene!  unmoved!  sublime! 


1 86  Sequoia  Gigantea. 

The  boom  of  thundering  billows  on  Time's  shore, 

The  crash  of  fall  long  forgot, 

The  throes  that  thrilled  a  world  inmost  core. 

\Yh>  r  fell,  disturbed  thcc  not. 

Deep  peace  and  quiet  brooded  o'er  the  spot, 
Blue  Summer  skies  bent  low  and  loving  o'er, 

Bright  star  "Ut  from  Heaven's  celestial  grot, 

As  upward  reached  thy  fingers  to  explore, 
if  to  grasp  their  mysteries  evermore. 

What  won  >rk  of  architect  divine! 

What  skill,  inspired,  thy  grand  proportions  drew? 
No  hair-breadth  out  of  nicest  plummet  line. 

No  jot  or  tittle  leaning  out  of  true  ! 

Far  through  the  trembling  depths  of  tender  blue, 
Thy  kingly  banners  wave  their  mystic  sign 

O'er  scrmd  I  as  in  proud  review — 

DC  haled  columns  dark  of  fir  and  pine, 

Like  host.;  embattled,  crowding  line  on  line. 

The  ;,  lonumcnts  of  Egypt's  pride, 

Th>  of  Thothmcs  and  his  courtier  sla.     , 

How  puny  in  their  grandeur  by  thy  side! — 

As  millpond  ity  ocean's  waves. 

Wh  :ig  captives  in  Dendereh's  ca\ 

Slow-toiling  hewed,  and  bent,  ami  broke  and  died, 

And  dotted  thick  the  wt  with  gn. 

Yc  watched  the  silent  ccntui  !y  glide, 

untasked,  unfettered  and  untried. 

Type  of  all  grandeur,  glory,  strength  and  grace, 
(  )f  all-mysterious  growth  unseen,  unheard, 

boastful  If  glorious  shafts  deface, 

No  gro.  iy  by  day  appeared 

iomc,  to  pierce  the  sky,  uprcarcd, 
To  gaze  .  n;,h  dimly  lading  space  ; 

burning  brands  the  flesh  of  toilers  scared 
To  mark  with  shame  a  captive  alien  race, 
To  rear  ye  all — triumphant  in  yourp: 


Relieved. — Burial  Hymn.  187 

Eternal,  lifting  heavenward,  mighty,  grand, 

The  glorious  columns  keep  their  sacred  trust ! 
Lo  !  groveling  in  the  wastes  of  drifting  sand, 

Lie  Egypt's  wonders  in  oblivion's  dust — 

The  scattered  records  of  Assyria's  lust, 
They  strew  her  solitudes  on  every  hand 

Blent  in  one  common  wreck,  shaft,  pillar,  bust — 
Tho'  storms  may  sweep,  and  earthquakes  rock  the  land, 
And  Empires  perish,  steadfast  still  ye  stand  ! 


RELIEVED.— BURIAL  HYMN. 


[Written  upon  the  occasion  of  the  funeral  of  President  Garfield.] 

Rest,  O,  weary  spirit,  rest ! 
Fold  the  hands  upon  the  breast, 
Now  the  last  long  watch  is  done, 
Now  the  battle  fought  and  won. 

Not  again  thy  dreams  shall  flee, 
At  the  morning  reveille  ; 
Winter  storm  or  summer  rain 
Waken  not  thy  sleep  again. 

Gently  bend,  O,  skies  of  blue, 
Gently  fall,  O,  rain  and  dew, 
Softly  sigh,  O,  drooping  rose, 
O'er  the  hero's  deep  repose  ! 

Earth  to  earth,  and  dust  to  dust, 
Take,  O,  grave,  thy  sacred  trust ! 
Let  the  war-worn  soldier  sleep, 
Fold  him  in  thy  slumber  deep. 

"It  is  finished!"     It  is  well- 
Drape  the  banner,  toll  the  bell, 
Love's  last,  lingering  kiss  is  pressed — 
Rest,  O,  weary  warrior,  rest ! 


iSS 


EVENING. 


Sunset  glories  flush  the  sky, 

!e  and  die; 
Come  the  fairy  steps  of  eve 

less  from  the  darkening  cast, 
Labor's  busy  hum  has  ceased; 
Crickets  grieve. 

Fades  the  day's  expiring  gleam 

Like  a  dream ; 

I  Icraldcd  by  eve's  bright  star, 
Night  puts  on  her  diadem, 
Set  with  many  a  blazing  gem 
Flashing  far. 

Truant  zephyrs  wandering  by, 

Faintly  sigh, 

Whisper  in  the  vine-clad  bower, 
Loiter  soft  with  lingering  kiss, 
JJringing  tender  dreams  of  bliss, 
To  each  flower. 

Mystic  trills  of  quavering  sound 

Moat  around; 
Like  1'rospero's  magic  isle, 

en  forces  fill  the  air; 
Song  and  music  everywhere, 
Soft  beguile. 

Now  earth's  cares  and  labors  cease, 

Ke-t  in  peace; 

Sinking  on  the  night's  soft  breast 
\Vcary  hearts  have  ceased  to  fret — 
Slumber  haunted— and  forget, 
Lulled  to  rest. 


Oblivion.  I  89 


OBLIVION. 

We  look  around  us  and  behold  the  doom 

Of  all  things  mortal  held  in  earthly  thrall; 
Like  ocean's  surges  with  their  thunderous  boom, 

The  waves  of  human  empire  rise  and  fall. 
The  mighty  heroes  sleep  within  their  tomb; 

They  heed  us  not,  in  vain  we  sigh  and  call, 
And  peer  about  us  through  the  ghastly  gloom; 

Oblivion  hath  gathered  over  all,  [pall. 

And  the  dead  Past  lies  cold  'ncath  Time's    mould'ring 

Like  mournful  exiles  on  lone  foreign  strands, 

t> 

We  gaze  oblivion's  dark  waters  o'er; 
And  vainly  strain  to  view  the  mighty  bands, 

Of  Spirit-land,  who  once  Life's  livery  wore, 

Whose  feet  shall  tread  earth's  highways  nevermore; 
The  living  dreamers — we  may  count  their  hands, 

But  who  shall  count  the  myriads  gone  before  ? 
Lo !  they  are  as  the  vast  unnumbered  sands 
That  drift  and  eddy  o'er  the  Red  Sea  lands. 

How  are  the  mighty  fallen  and  undone  ! 

Their  sun  hath  set  as  orb  at  close  of  day; 
Their  dazzling  glories  perished  one  by  one, 

Their  palsied  hands  no  more  the  sceptre  sway. 

All  but  their  mouldering  names  have  passed  away — 
Tyre  in  her  purple,  gorgeous  Babylon, 

And  Nineveh,  and  Carthage, — where  arc  they? 
Their  eager  race  of  power  and  glory  run- 
Gone,  as  the  morning  mists,  before  the  sun  ! 

Imperial  Rome  !  Proud  mistress  of  the  world  ! 

Still  through  thy  heart  the  classic  Tiber  pours; 
Thy  eagles  grasped  their  prey  with  plumes  unfurled, 

From  every  nation,  from  all  climes  and  shores. 


190  Oblivion. 

And  they  in  turn  have  preyed  upon  thy  stores; 
The  Goths  and  Vandals  in  their  fury  hurled 

Thy  household  gods  forth  from  thy  templed  doors; 
No  more  thy  haughty  C  '.eek  and  curled, 

Shall  tread  in  pride  thy  gorgeous  palace  flo< 

The  dogs  alone  in  pit}'  lick  thy  sores. 

Like  busy  ants  we  throng  the  earth's  wide  shores— 

Proudly  they  rear  their  tenements  of  clay, 
And  guard  with  jealous  care  their  sacred  doors, 

Vain  little  toilers  ! — We  arc  but  as  they  ! 

Ferocious,  petty  creatures  that  do  prey 
Upon  their  weaker  neighbor's  precious  stores; 

The  whirlwind  bursts  in  fury,  where  arc  they? 
Gone  as  the  mite,  when  ocean  smites  the  shores, 
Swept  as  the  dust  from  polished  marble  floors! 

And  ants  arc  we:  The  proudest  earthly  throne 

I -.  but  an  ant  hill.     Insects  we  do  stand, 
And  we  do  ever  tug  and  sweat  and  groan, 

And  strive  to  move  great  heavy  grains  of  sand; 

\Ve  rear  our  temples  and  our  columns  grand, 
Nor  dream  of  might}-  Kabul's  towers  o'crthrown, 

And  ga/.c  with  haughty  pride:  On  every  hand 
Our  lofty  monuments  of  sculptured  stone — 
The  earthquake  topples  them,  and  the}-  are  gone. 

\Ve  toil  and  build,  and  reck  not  of  the  years 

Swift  circling  ever  through  Time's  ringing  zones; 
1  plow  the  dust  and  ashes  of  our  pci 

And  reap  our  harvests  over  dead  men's  bones. 

\Ve  build  our  cities  of  the  sacred  stones 
That  the\-  have  fashioned  into  sepulchres, 

With  solemn  rites  and  sorrowing  hearts,  and  groans, 
And  raised  above  their  mi ;.;hty  kings  and  se 
And  con-ecrated  with  their  sighs  and  tears. 


Poem.  191 

And  what,  if  in  the  lapse  of  countless  years, 
Amid  the  wreck  of  earth's  forgotten  thrones, 

Another  race  should  come  with  gibes  and  jeers, 

And  dig  amongst  our  mouldering,  crumbling  bones, 
And  they  should  laugh,  and  they  should  take  the  stones 

That  we  have  piled  aloft,  'mid  sighs  and  tears, 

Above  our  dead,  with  wringing  hands,  and  groans, 

And  pull  them  down  with  cold,  unfeeling  sneers, 

And  rear  their  gilded  palaces  'mid  shouts  and  cheers? 

And  thus  it  shall  be  with  us  all.     The  swine 
Shall  some  day  spurn  us  and  upturn  our  dust, 

And  we  shall  dreamless  lie  and  give  no  sign- 
Cold,  cold,  the  fires  of  love  and  hate  and  lust. 
The  proud  and  meek,  the  wicked  and  the  just, 

Shall  mingle  in  the  chaos  of  Time's  deep  decline; 
The  purple  grape  its  rooted  fibres  thrust 

Through  our  cold  clay,  and  men  shall  drink  the  wine, 

And  sing  and  dance  and  jest  beneath  the  vine. 


POEM. 


[Written  for  Union  Temperance  Meeting;  and  read  by  Rev. 
Mr.  Ilutchings,  at  Los  Angeles.  1 


Launched  in  their  strength  and  pride, 

Brave  flags  and  pennons  streaming  free  aloft, 

A  gallant  fleet,  they  seek  life's  ocean-tide, 
From  many  a  harbor  soft. 

With  bulwarks  high  and  strong, 

Full-freighted  deep,  with  many  a  precious  store, 
They  list  the  murmur  of  Hope's  siren  song, 

And  leave  the  smiling  shore. 


1 92  Poem. 

Soft-lulled  by  Fortune's  smile, 

Alar  swift-wafted  by  the  favoring  gales, 
Adown  bright  coasts  'mid  sleeping  coral  isles, 

They  drift  with  dreamy  sails. 

Some  barks  'ncath  placid  sky, 

O'er  ocean's  wide  expanses  come  and  go, 
And  know  no  danger  as  the  years  go  by, 

In  soft,  perpetual  flow. 

Or  safely  reach  a  shore, 

Where  soft  waves  murmur  on  a  sleeping  strand; 
But  woe  for  others  when  the  tempest's  roar 

Beats  on  a  cruel  land! 

Some,  helpless  at  their  posts, 

With  flapping  sails,  the  sport  of  spiteful  Fate, 
Drift  rudderless  toward  the  rock-bound  coasts, 

Where  death  lies  full  in  wait. 

Dark  clouds  and  storm-torn  waves! 

Wrecked  barks  and  signal  guns  that  help  implore 
For  rescue  swift  from  cruel,  yawning  gr.i 

Call  faintly  to  the  shore. 

Shrieks  wild  of  dire  dist 

one  of  horror,  half  concealed,  half  shewn, 
loomy  shore-line,  long  and  limitless, 
With  wreck  and  ruin  strewn. 

I  Io!  rescuers  brave  and  strong, 

Launch  swift  your  life-boats  from  the  death-strewn  shore; 
Pull  for  your  lives,  with  stead}-  stroke  and  long, 

As  ncvt  r  yrt  before. 

Pull  for  the  ^hivered  in 

For  thoM-  to  1  lope's  w(  ak,  shattered  spars  may  cling! 
Pull  for  the  helpless  lives  down-sinking  fast — 

For  weak  souls  perishing. 


Jack    Van  Duscn — In  the  Alta  Level.  193 

What  matters  that  they  slept, 

And  kept  no  watch  when  zephyrs  breathed  with  balm  ! 
Or  careless  song  and  midnight  revel  kept, 

When  sea  and  sky  were  calm  ? 

Ho,  watchers  by  the  seas  ! 

Let  your  loud  danger-bells  amid  the  gloom 
Ring  out  their  warning  on  the  shuddering  breeze, 

With  thunderous,  mighty  boom. 

Ho,  keepers  of  the  light ! 

Flash  far  through  gloom  and  storm  the  beacon-blaze  ! 
Far  through  the  tremors  of  the  starless  night 

Send  forth  your  cheering  rays. 

With  steadfast  strength  and  watch, 

Weak  sinking  ones  ye  haply  yet  may  save — 

Full  many  a  hopeless  fainting  soul  may  snatch 
From  dark  oblivion's  grave. 


JACK  VAN  DUSEN— IN  THE  ALTA  LEVEL. 


Where  the  Alta's  pulses  beat, 
With  a  burning,  fevered  heat, 

Rushed  the  swelling  tide  of  death, 

Through  the  level's  throbbing  vein; 
From  the  Comstock's  bowels  hot, 
Boiling,  bubbling,  like  a  pot, 

Came  his  hurried,  labored  breath, 
Like  a  dying  soul's,  in  pain. 

Half  a  mile  below  the  light, 
In  the  everlasting  night, 

Where  the  deadly  gases  creep 

Through  the  sweltering  level  still; 


IO4  lack   Van  Duscn — ///  tlic  Alta  Level. 

Toiling,  boiling,  heroes  they, 
Fighting  inch  by  inch  their  way; 
'Mid  the  awful  darkness  deep, 

Delved  the  knights  of  pick  and  drill. 


"Death  to  all,  without  a  hope, 
!n  the  lower  level's  scope!" 

That  was  what  the  miners  said, 

\Yhitc-lippcd  at  the  entrance  all ; 
"Not  a  thing  that  breathes,  may  live, 
Not  a  glimmer  hope  can  give- 
But  to  reach  our  comrades  dead, 
Why  should  other  comrades  fall  ?" 


Then  up  spoke  brave  Callahan, 
"Who  will  be  the  other  man  ? 
We  will  venture  in  a  boat, 

In  the  boiling,  seething  vein  !" 

"I,"  said  Bennett,  fcar-unblanchcd, 

And  their  tiny  boat  they  launched, 

Vanished  in  the  depths  remote; 

But  they  came  not  back  again. 

Shuddering  horror  like  a  pall, 
Hopeless  settled  over  all, 

Spell-bound,  till  Van  Duscn  stepped 

Boldly  to  the  front  and  said  : 
"I  my  helmet  on  will  gird, 
Breast  the  flood  and  bring  you  word 
Of  our  men,  alive  or  dead  !" 

And  the  promise  well  was  kept 

Through  that  shuddering  veil  of  doom, 
Broke  no  cannon's  mighty  boom, 
As  he  onward  silent  strode, 

Face  to  face  with  lonely  death ; 


Jack    Van  Duscn — In  tJie  A  It  a  Level.  195 

Rose  no  cheer  or  martial  clang-, 
Not  a  bugle  echo  rang, 

As  he  faced  the  scalding  flood, 
With  its  poisonous,  fiery  breath. 

Through  that  seething  way  of  wrath, 
Through  that  death-damp,  haunted  path, 
Where  the  shadow  of  the  grave, 

Wrapt  in  mystery,  threatening  lay; 
Past  the  corpses  of  the  dead, 
Whence  the  spark  of  life  had  fled, 
Onward  went  the  hero  brave, 
Steadfast  on  his  fearful  way. 

Not  on  Balaklava's  field, 
Where  war's  thunders  crashed  and  pealed, 
Shone  such  dauntless  courage  high, 

'Mid  the  battle's  lurid  blaze; 
Not  in  charge  so  grandly  made, 
By  the  deathless  Light  Brigade, 
When  a  band  rode  forth  to  die, 
'Ncath  a  world's  applauding  gaze. 

His,  a  mission  but  to  save 
Comrades  from  a  horrid  grave — 
Not  of  warrior-fame  to  win, 

On  ensanguined  field  of  slaughter; 
His,  a  charge  unseen,  alone, 
Fame-unheralded,  unknown — 
Here  no  sound  of  battle-din, 
Floated  o'er  the  deadly  water. 

Deathless  be  his  record  grand, 
Bravest,  noblest  of  the  land, 
Breasting  hell's  infernal  wrath, 
Braving  terror  threatening-jawed; 


196  Jftck    Van  Duscn — In  the  Alta 

Facing  worse  than  battle  storm; 
Daring  death's  most  horrid  form, 
On  his  solitary  path, 

Strode  he  on,  alone,  unawcd. 

On  he  struggles,  staggering,  blind, 
Death  before,  and  death  behind ; 

Not  a  thing  with  life  might  breathe, 

Not  a  glimmering  light  might  burn, 
In  that  awful,  noisome  cave, 
Manhood's  strength  and  glory's  grave, 
Where  the  waters  boil  and  seethe, 
Round  his  staggering  feet's  return. 

'Ncath  the  level's  low-sprung  arch, 
On  his  slow  uncertain  march, 

Faint  his  lamp  shone  'mid  the  gloom. 

Like  a  trembling  star  at  dawn  ; 
Then  no  more  the  watchers,  cheering, 
In  the  darkness  disappearing, 

Telling  of  their  comrades'  doom, 

Flickered,  faded,  and  was  gone. 
»         •         *         tt         «         *• 

Out  from  depths  of  deepest  pause, 
From  Death's  gaping,  yawning  jaws, 
From  a  struggle  deadlier  far 

Than  the  soldier  ever  braved ; 
Like  a  ghost,  with  clinging  shroud, 
Kei-li:u,',  swooning,  pallid-browed, 
To  the  light's  dim-beckoning  star, 
Came  the  hero — they  were  saved. 

Write  his  nanu:  on  glory's  page, 
Grandest  hero  of  the  age, 

Blazoned  bright  on  history's  scroll, 
Simple-,  stalwart,  great,  sublime! 
"Jack  Van  Duscn!"  let  the  name 
Echo  down  the  aisles  of  fame; 
Let  the  whispers  throb  and  roll, 
Through  the  corridors  of  Time. 


Fading  Roses.  197 


FADING  ROSES. 


Whither,  when  roses  are  fading, 

Flecth  their  mystic  perfume  ? 
Whither,  when  storms  are  o'crshading, 

Flceth  their  glory  and  bloom? 
Fading  and  flying  they  scatter 

Wide,  when  the  autumn  winds  call, 
Ruthlessly,  what  docs  it  matter, 

Where  the  pale  petals  may  fall — 
Over  the  mountain  or  meadow, 

Over  the  desert  or  glade, 
Into  the  glimmer  or  shadow, 

Into  the  sunshine  or  shade  ? 

Life  is  as  rose-bloom  that  flashes 

Through  the  thick  gloom  overhead ; 
Why  should  we  weep  o'er  the  ashes, 

When  the  bright  spirit  is  fled  ? 
Parting  and  fleeing  we  scatter, 

Over  the  land  and  the  deep — 
Vanishing,  little  the  matter 

Where  our  pale  ashes  may  sleep — 
Under  the  turf  or  the  billow, 

Under  the  lilies  or  snows, 
Under  the  pine  or  the  willow, 

Under  the  cactus  or  rose. 

Chasing  life's  bright,  gleaming  bubble, 

Some  in  the  East  and  the  West, 
Why  should  we  sigh  with  a  trouble   > 

Where  our  cold  ashes  may  rest — 
Lulled  by  the  soft-cooing  turtle, 

Watched  by  the  sentries  of  God — 
Under  the  cypress  or  myrtle, 

Under  the  marble  or  sod  ? 


198  Aubreys  Ride. 


AUBREY'S    RIDE. 


[At  the  time  of  F.  X.  Aubrey's  celebrated  ride,  in  1848,  from  Santa  Fe  to  Independ 
ence,  Missouri,  all  the  vast  stretch  of  plain  intervening  was  a  solitary,  grassy 
the  home  of  countless  millions  of  buffaloes,  and  savage  and  blood-thirsty  hordes  of  Indi 
ans —  I'awiK-cs  Chcyenncs,  and  Arapahocs.    A  few  nomadic  trappers  and  trade : 
located  at  the  time  at  certain  points  on  the  "  Santa  Fc  Trail,"  of  which  knowledge  Up 
hold  rider  availed  himself,  iu  order  to  exchange  his  tired  steeds  for  fresh  ones.] 

There  were  doubts  and  fears,  and  a  storm  of  cheers, 

When  a  horseman,  bold  and  free, 
With  a  ringing  shout,  and  a  clang  of  spurs, 

Rode  forth  from  Santa  Fc. 
Through  a  gauntlet  dread  of  the  savage  spears, 

Three  hundred  leagues  rode  he. 

He  had  wagered  upon  a  festal  night— 

\Yhcn  the  hearts  beat  fast  and  high, 
And  the  eyes  were  bright,  and  the  hearts  were  light— 

"O'er  the  trail  to  rific  or  fly 
In  six  brief  days,  for  the  dizzy  flight  "- 

And  he  would  do  or  die. 

Like  the  rushing  wind,  far,  far  behind 

1  Ic  leaves  the  mountain  door; 
The  rude  jacal  with  its  flowers  entwined 

lU-  his  path  he  sees  no  more; 
The  boundless  plains  where  the  dim  trail  wind, 

Like  seas  spread  out  before-. 

Where  the  night-wind-  moan,  by  the  Cimarron, 

1  Ic  harks  to  the  ripple's  flow; 
Lik<  r  swift  thrown,  on,  on,  alone 

Through  the  dim  night  he  must  go; 
Through  a  land  thick-sown  with  skull  and  bone 

Hy  the  fierce  Arapah 


Aubreys  Ride.  199 

The  bison  rolls  from  his  grassy  lair, 

As  the  waves  roll  on  the  sea, 
And  the  Indian  war-whoop  rends  the  air — 

The  shout  of  the  fierce  Pawnee. 
It  was  his  to  die,  or  do  and  dare, 

For  a  mountain  man  was  he. 

With  a  fearful  yell,  as  of  fiends  from  hell, 

The  Indians  quick  pursue; 
He  is  safely  borne,  right  fast  and  well, 

By  his  good  steed  tried  and  true. 
The  outline  dim  of  the  mountain  swell 

Fades  in  the  distance  blue. 

But  a  moment's  halt  at  some  trapper's  camp — 

Some  Ishmael,  lone  and  stray, 
And  a  fresh  steed  springs  with  impatient  champ, 

That  will  not  brook  delay. 
O'er  the  long,  long  way,  through  the  night-air  damp, 

And  still  away,  away! 

He  sees  bright  waters  flash  and  gleam, 

His  steed  the  current  craves; 
He  draws  the  rein  beside  the  stream 

Where  the  reedy  bulrush  waves. 
In  the  crystal  tide  like  some  bright  dream, 

The  water-lily  laves. 

Swift  from  the  treacherous  ambushed  reeds 

Pours  forth  the  arrowy  hail; 
Again,  again  his  courser  speeds, 

Like  a  bark  before  the  gale, 
On  !  on,  with  many  a  wound  that  bleeds, 

Along  the  fearful  trail ! 


2OO  Aubreys  Ride. 

The  rattlesnake  sounds  his  warning  dread, 

As  it  sees  him  swiftly  pass; 
And  the  ravens  croak  at  him  overhead, 

Their  ominous  "\Y<>e!    A!.- 
And  the  life-drops  red,  from  his  deep  wounds  shed, 

Fall  thick  on  the  trampled  grass. 

The  boundless  levels  retreating,  show 

The  dim  horizon's  verge; 
The  weary  zephyrs  thrill  faint  and  low, 

Like  some  sad  funeral  dirge; 
And  the  mighty  seas  of  buffalo 

Around  him  madly  surge. 

\Yith  heavy  eye  he  vainly  scans 

The  far  horizon's  sweep, 
Xor  sign  nor  sound  of  friendly  man's — 

He  dares  not  pause  nor  sleep; 
How  fast  and  yet  how  slow  the  sands 

Of  weary  time  do  creep  ! 

Five  sleepless  nights,  six  weary  days, 

lie  speeds  upon  the  trail; 
I  Ic  sees,  as  through  a  trembling  haze, 

The  landscape  dim  and  pale; 
liis  staggering  thoughts  arc  in  a  maze, 

His  reeling  senses  fail. 

\Yhcre  the  swift  boats  glide  o'er  Missouri's  tide, 

He  came  at  the  set  of  sun; 
Six  days  of  flight  o'er  the  lone  plains  wide, 

And  the  fearful  ride  was  done; 
His  good  steed  tried,  lay  dead  by  his  side, 

But  the  wager  was  bravely  won. 


Dedication  Poem.  201 

DEDICATION    POEM. 


Written  for  Downey  College  Dedication,  and  read  by  Miss  Lu  Crowell. 


From  sylvan  paths,  from  smiling  ways, 
From  burdened  fields  of  bending  maize; 
From  meadows  kissed  by  softer  gale 
Than  fans  the  dreamy  Lombard  vale; 
From  mazy  lane  and  willowy  street, 
We  come  with  hurrying,  youthful  feet, 
With  merry  sport,  and  voiceful  hum, 
With  eager  hearts  and  steps  we  come 
Through  winding  paths  and  vistas  straight, 
This  Temple  fair  to  consecrate. 

Not  with  old  mystic  Druid  rite, 
Beneath  the  moon's  pale,,  trembling  light, 
To  strike  with  awe  the  pagan  hosts, 
Come  we  to  flit  like  guilty  ghosts, 
That  shun  the  holy  light  of  clay- 
As  shadows  come,  so  pass  away ; 
Not  with  the  blood  of  victim  slain, 
Proud  Learning's  altar  pure,  we  stain— 
With  music's  wiles,  and  gentle  arts, 
And  incense  sweet  of  willing  hearts, 
With  aspirations,  pure  and  high, 
These  halls  to  Truth  we  sanctify. 

Not  'mid  the  burning  Libyan  sands, 
Not  'mid  j:he  glowing  desert  lands, 
Thy  taunting  shadows  mystic  rise, 
To  mock  the  fainting  pilgrim's  eyes — 
A  false,  delusive  mirage  ray, 
To  glint  and  gleam,  and  melt  away. 
Wrapt  seers  of  Time,  we  gaze  and  see 
A  vision  of  the  days  to  be ; 


2O2  Dedication   Poctn. 

Forth  from  thy  wide,  unfolding  door, 

\Vc  sec  the  thrones  impetuous  pour; 

On  Life's  vast  plain  their  feet  emerge, 

\Ve  sec  a  thousand  paths  diverge; 

Afar,  \vc  hear  the  lofty  shout, 

"  Kxcelsior  !"  ringing  grandly  out; 

A  tumult  as  of  restless  seas, 

A  murmur  as  of  dreamy  bee--. 

When  steals  the  trembling  midnight  moon, 

To  kiss  the  sleeping  flowers  of  June — 

The  sounds  of  toil  and  tumult  eease, 

The  toilers  sleep  and  all  is  peace. 

Perchance,  from  thy  soft  lap  may  spring, 
To  awe  the  lands,  some  conquering  King — 
Some  glorious,  flashing  meteor  name, 
Light  History's  pages  with  its  flame; 
Some  Franklin  from  its  misty  shroud, 
To  lure  the  lightnings  from  the  cloud; 
Some  star-crowned  Ilcrschcl,  grandly  wise, 
To  read  the  mysteries  of  the  skies; 
To  lift  in  awe  the  Heavenly  1. 
And  tell  the  secrets  of  the  stars; 
Some  Kane  to  dare  the  Arctic  breath, 
Some  Hall  to  seek  the  Pole — and  death; 
Some  Webster  to  expound  the  law, 
Some  Henry  thunder-strike  with  awe, 
The  proud  oppressors  of  his  land 
With  burning  words,  defiant,  grand  ! 
To  empty  in  the  tyrant's  path 
The  pent  volcanoes  of  his  wrath ; 
Some  Moses  grand,  to  lead  hi-  flock, 
To  part  the  waves,  and  smite  the  rock 
Of  ignorance  in  savage  lands, 
And  give  to  lips  of  thirsting  bands 
That  blindly  press  with  eager  feet, 
The  draught  <>f    Learning,  pure  and  sweet; 


Dedication  Poem.  203 

Some  patient  Locke,  to  trace  and  find 
The  hidden  fountains  of  the  mind, 
From  whence  their  rise,  and  fitful  flow, 
Their  breadth  and  depth,  and  whither  go. 

Some  Genius  from  thy  halls  may  glide, 

Like  him  who  sleeps  by  Avon's  side ; 

In  lore  of  awful  Nature  taught, 

His  realm,  the  boundless  space  of  Thought; 

King  of  the  Ages,  grand  !  sublime  ! 

Encrowned  with  glory  for  all  time. 

Some  dauntless,  sweet,  heroic  Queen, 

With  royal  pride  and  matchless  mien ; 

Some  Eleanor,  with  potent  spell, 

The  poison  of  the  Infidel, 

With  soothing  art,  and  skillful  tact, 

And  queenly,  lovely  lips,  extract. 

Some  Isabella  grandly  dare, 

For  Genius,  pledge  her  jewels  rare; 

Some  maid  inspired,  some  Joan  of  Arc, 

To  fan  aflame  dim  Freedom's  spark; 

To  kindle  quenchless  Freedom's  rays, 

And  light  a  land  with  Glory's  blaze, 

When  courage  from  her  sons  is  fled, 

And  stir  the  pulses  of  the  dead. 

In  youth's  bright  morning-time  and  glow, 

Some  stripling  from  thy  walls  may  go, 

To  come  again  in  other  days, 

A  hero  crowned  with  wreath  of  bays ; 

By  storm  and  heat  of  battle  browned, 

Some  steel-clad  warrior  helmet  crowned, 

To  tell  of  wars  and  labors  done, 

Of  battles  fought  and  Plevnas  won. 

Forth  from  thy  haven's  peaceful  breast, 
Whose  light  gleams  o'er  the  farthest  West, 
May  no  false  beacons  lure  away, 
Nor  dreams  Utopian  lead  astray 


Life. 

The  seekers  of  thy  guardian  light, 
To  wander  on  through  endless  night; 
Here,  haply,  free  from  sordid  cares, 
\Vhcn  Time  her  full  fruition  bears, 
I         i  }•:  thy  welcome,  sweet  repose, 

;d  muse  beneath  the  clustering  rose, 
Shall  Sages  come  with  honored  feet, 
And  Science  find  the  chosen  seat. 

O,  God-like  Science,  in  thy  dawn, 
With  steadfast  march,  go  on,  go  on; 
Past  Fear's  dim  phantoms,  cold  and  pale, 
Through  Superstition's  ghostly-vale, 
Go  on  with  purpose  pure  and  high, 
Go  up,  until  the  stars  arc  nigh, 

yond  the  glittering,  Heavenly  zone, 
And  stand  beside  the  Golden  Throne ! 

God  of  the  Universe  !  to  Thee, 
'Mid  Time's  mutations  yet  to  be, 
When  drowsy  ages  nod  and  sleep, 
\\V  give  this  holy  fane  to  keep. 
When  monuments  of  pomp  and  lust 
Lie  low  in  rayk-ss,  dreamless  dust, 
Spurned  and  forgotten  by  the  lands, 
May  this,  our  work  of  loving  hands, 
Gleam  like  a  beacon  on  the  shore, 
Bright  o'er  Time's  Sea,  forevermore. 


LIFE. 


To  hope,  to  doubt,  to  grieve,  to  mourn; 

A  journey  ended,  scarce  begun; 
A  misty  fog-wreath,  upward  borne, 

As  morning  mist  before  the  sun. 


Mission  San  Gabriel.  205 

A  trembling  light,  a  streak  of  gray, 

A  gleam,  a  purple  flush  at  dawn; 
A  risen  sun,  a  dazzling  ray, 

A  rainbow  promise  secri  and  gone. 

A  summer  sky,  all  clouded  soon, 

A  full-orbed  splendor  veiled  from  light 

By  lowering  clouds  obscured  at  noon; 
A  sun,  gone  down  in  gloom  and  night. 


MISSION  SAN  GABRIEL. 


Crumbling  ruin,  old  and  gray ! 

Relic  dim  of  ancient  glory! 
Emblem  mute  of  Time's  decay, 
Fading  like  a  dream  away, 

Oh!  to  know  each  tender  story, 
Each  fond  legend  of  romance, 
Born  of  maiden's  magic  glance, 

Vivid  as  the  lightning's  flashes, 
Lighting  up  the  far  expanse! 

Vain  the  longing!  dust  and  ashes, 

Only,  of  the  hearts  remain, 

Thrilling  once  with  love  and  pleasure, 
Throbbing  quick  with  joy  and  pain, 
Lust  of  power  or  hope  of  gain, 

Saintly  crown  or  golden  treasure. 
Here,  within  thy  solemn  shade, 
Slumber  matron,  priest  and  maid, 

Lover,  warrior,  pride,  ambition; 
Mouldering  side  by  side  arc  laid 

Lowly  birth  and  high  condition. 


206  Mission  San  Gabriel. 

Hallowed  lamp  of  holy  light ! 

Early  ray  of  gleaming  lustre, 
Mashing  through  the  gloom  of  night,   * 
With  thy  soft  effulgence  bright- 
How  dead  memories,  round  thee  cluster  ! 
1 -'chocs  faint  of  ghostly  calls, 
Whispers  haunt  thy  lonely  halls, 

Of  the  voices  gone  and  perished, 
And  oblivion's  shadow  falls 

Over  all  fond  hearts  once  cherished. 

Here,  where  roses  bloom  and  flush, 

Heedless  of  the  world's  mutations, 
Of  its  maddening  whirl  and  rush, 
In  supreme,  eternal  hush, 

Sleep  the  dreamless  generations. 
All  their  fitful  drcamings  o'er, 
Waked  to  effort  nevermore, 

These  forgotten,  those  before  them, 
And  the  orange,  from  her  store, 

Strews  her  snowy  petals  o'er  them. 

Gazing  far  o'er  land  and  sea, 

Still  thy  mountains,  tall  and  solemn, 
Lifting  through  eternity, 
Silent  sentries  over  thce, 

Look  on  crumbling  wall  and  column. 
Bound  as  with  a  magic  spell, 
Hear  we  still  thy  virgin  bell, 

To  the  mountains  calling,  calling, 
Throbbing,  thrilling  vale  and  dell — 

Sinking,  swelling,  rising,  falling. 

Still  thy  silvery  chime  of  bells. 

With  its  echoes  throbbing,  dying, 
Floating  through  thy  sylvan  dells, 
Sweet  its  tender  story  tells, 

To  the  zephyrs,  sobbing,  sighing; 


Mission  San  Gabriel.  207 

And  at  solemn  hush  of  eve, 
Trembling  nightwinds  softly  grieve, 

Like  fond  mourners,  vigil  keeping; 
And  the  vines  their  chaplets  weave, 

O'er  a  perished  century  sleeping. 

Here  where  mouldering  Time  hath  crept, 

Still  beside  thy  simple  altar, 
Where  the  contrite  eyes  have  wept — 
Where  her  vigils  Faith  hath  kept — 

Stands  the  priest,  with  cross  and  psalter, 
Like  a  spectre,  weird  and  lone, 
Chanting  in  a  monotone; 

Like  some  mourner,  weary-hearted, 
Drooping  o'er  the  burial  stone 

Of  the  loved  ones,  long  departed. 

Still  thy  drooping,  dreamy  oaks, 

Like  fond  mothers,  sad  and  tender, 
Trembling  at  the  woodman's  strokes, 
Spread  their  sheltering,  glossy  cloaks 

O'er  the  poppy's  golden  splendor; 
But  the  warrior's  sword  is  rust, 
And  the  padre's  heart  is  dust ; 

Gone  the  gleam  of  lance  and  sabre, 
And  the  souls  that  kept  their  trust, 

Rest  from  earthly  care  and  labor. 

Relic  of  a  century  dead  ! 

Type  of  earthly  evanescence, 
Ghost  of  strength  and  glory  fled, 
Time  hath  bowed  thy  hoary  head, 

Dimmed  thy  glowing  incandescence; 
Like  a  half- forgotten  dream, 
Drifting  down  oblivion's  stream, 

Slowly,  slowly,  sadly  fading, 
Like  the  day's  expiring  gleam, 

Into  mystic  twilight  shading. 


2o8  ti^iit, 


MAGDALENA. 


Thou  art  fallen,  fallen,  fallen, 

Magdalena  I 
With  a  spell  thy  soul  is  thrallcn, 

Magdalena. 

From  the  path  of  virtue  crowded, 
With  a  stain  thy  life  is  clouded, 
With  a  pall  thy  glory  shrouded, 

Magdalena! 


Thou  wert  glorious  as  a  vision, 

Magdalena, 
In  youth's  springtime  flush  elysian, 

Magdalena; 

Rainbow  Hope  thy  sky  adorning, 
Not  a  shadow  dimmed  thy  morning, 
Not  a  glance  was  flashed  in  scorning, 

Magdalena! 

Proud  and  peerless  in  thy  beauty, 

xlalcna, 
Walking  in  the  path  of  duty, 

Magdalena ; 

Oh  !  what  cruel  fate  hath  won  thec  ? 
What  dark,  deadly  wrong  undone  thcc, 
That  the  pure  and  holy  shun  thec, 

Magdalena? 

Beckoned  Love's  false  sign  unhallowed, 

Magdalena, 
And  thy  eager  footsteps  followed, 

Magdalena  ; 

Luring  on  but  to  degrade  thcc, 
In  sin's  scarlet  they  arrayed  thcc, 
Wrecked  and  ruined  and  betrayed  thce, 
'dalena. 


The  Desert  Mirage.  209 

Do  they  scorn  thec  and  contemn  thec, 

Magdalena? 
Who  shall  judge  thee  to  condemn  thec, 

Magdalena? 

Thou  art  lost  to  virtue's  keeping; 
Clouds  across  thy  sky  are  sweeping; 
Bitter  fruit  thy  soul  is  reaping, 

Magdalena! 

Who  shall  boast  them  of  the  morrow, 

Magdalena, 
In  this  world  of  sin  and  sorrow, 

Magdalena? 

Who  defy  the  siren  Fashion, 
Pleading  Love  and  tyrant  Passion, 
Or  Want's  palid  lips  so  ashen, 

Magdalena ! 

Yet  though  outcast  and  forsaken, 

Magdalena, 
From  thy  nightmare  dream  awaken, 

Magdalena  ; 

Words  of  promise  He  hath  spoken; 
Like  the  rainbow's  glorious  token, 
Never  yet  to  mortal  broken, 

Magdalena. 


THE  DESERT  MIRAGE. 

Scared  and  shriveled,  scorched  and  blasted, 

Like  a  giant  fever-wasted, 
Prostrate,  hopeless,  ever  glaring  wide  with  fixed  despairing  eyes 

Stretch  the  desert-wastes  where  danger 

Beckoning,  smiling,  lures  the  stranger, 
Ever  hoping,  on  and  onward  'neath  the  furnace-glowing  skies. 


210 

There  tin-  phantoms  gleam  and  glitter, 
Where  the  alkali  spivads  bitter,  [Spriiv; 

.ivcring  song-bird's  twitter  ever  greets  the  glad- 
Thrilled  with  tremor,  scorched  with  lever, 
1 1  opt-less  horror  broods  forever, 
Where  Jehovah's  wrath  lias  withered  every  germ  of  living  thing. 

All  !  \\hat  vision  bright  of  glory, 
What  fond  dream  of  fairy  story 

:         los  where  the  dim  horizon  like  a  trembling  curtain  falls  ? 
What  vague  shadows,  what  creation* 
'Mid  the  quivering  air's  vibrations 

IS  exhalations — domes  and  castellated  walls? 

^  red  with  art's  precision, 
Clustering  groves  and  fields  elysian, 

a  midnight  vision,  gorgeous  as  a  fairy  dream; 
Spires  ablaze  with  shimmering  splendor 
Tower  afar  o'er  landscapes  tender — 

vine- wreathed  arbors,  over  fountain,  lake  and  stream. 

With  its  blessed  spell  assuaging, 
Soon  shall  cool  the  fevered-raging, 

;,  water,  gleaming,  dancing,  see  the  sparkling  crystal  wave- 
July  glancing,  clear  and  clearer, 
Shining,  Hashing  like  a  mirror; 
Having  onward,  drawing  nearer,  soon  the  weary  limbs  may  lave-. 

Over  quivering  white  cxpan 

Hashing  back  the  sun's  hot  [crust, 

the  heat-wave  writhes  and  dances,  where  the  ashen  lava- 

.  itfall  echoes  hollow, 
Still  the  faintin  follow, 

Hoping  still,  and  still  despairin;.;,  ,,'er  the  desert's  deathly  dust. 

Faint  receding,  dim  and  dim: 
Fitful  fl.  'limmer  ; 

shimmer,  but  no  river  rolls  its  tide  ; 
*     Speed  the  f<  last  and  fas; 

Spread  the  death-wastes  vast  and  vaster; 
Wreck  and  ruin  and  .1  broadcast   far  and   wide. 


Instability,  2 1 1 

Here  where  gleamed  the  bright  creation, 
Like  a  bubble's  false  inflation, 
Naught  but  death  and  desolation   meet  the  fevered,  maddened 

gaze; 

Where  a  city's  walls  were  builded, 
Where  the  spires  rose,  tall  and  gilded, 

But  the  ghostly,  shuddering  mountains  tremble  through  the 
quivering  haze. 

Beckoning,  mocking,  still  betraying, 

Still  inconstant,  never  staying, 
Gleams  the  spell  of  death's  enchantment  fading  on  the  brazen  sky, 

But  a  mirage,  but  illusion, 

Melting  dimly  in  confusion 
Bids  the  follower  hope  abandon,  bids  him  but  despair  and  die. 


INSTABILITY. 


Two   children  played  in  fond  childhood's  trust, 

And  drew  quaint  signs  on  the  earth's  hard  floor, 
And  wrote  their  names  in  the  highway's  dust, 
But  the  whirlwind  came  in  its  pride  and  lust, 
And  dust  and  tracery  were  no  more. 

Two  lovers  stood  on  the  gleaming  strand, 

And  gazed  afar  o'er  the  boundless  space  ; 
He  wrote  their  names  in  the  shining  sand, 
As  they  wandered  dreamily  hand  in  hand, 
And  the  tide  swept  over,  and  left  no  trace. 

Ambition  came  in  his  pride  to  mock, 

And  graved  his  name  on  enduring  stone — 

Deep,  deep  in  the  everlasting  rock, 

But  the  earthquake  heaved  with  a  mighty  shock, 
And  the  shaft  lay  broken  and  overthrown. 


21  2  After  AIL 


AFTER  ALL. 


After  all  the  fretting, 
After  all  the  pain ; 
After  all  rcgretti. 

ter  all  ihc  stain  ; 
After  all  "to-morrow," 
After  all  the  sorrow, 

ek  to  borrow 
Trouble  still  in  vain  ? 

After  all  the  swaying, 
After  all  the  sweep; 
After  all  the  praying, 
After  all  the  sleep; 
After  all  the  weeping, 
After  all  the  reaping, 
After  all  the  keeping, 
What  is  there  to  keep.'' 

After  all  the  taunting, 
After  all  the  strife; 
After  all  the  haunting 

Dreams  with  terror  rife; 
After  all  the  scheming, 
After  all  the  dreaming, 
After  all  the  gleaming, 
What  is  left  of  life  ? 

After  all  the  trouble, 

r  all  the  dearth; 
After  all  the  bubble, 

r  all  the  mirth; 
•  all  the  trying, 
After  all  the  sighing, 

r  all  the  dying. 
What  IS  left  of  earth  ? 


SJiiloh.  2 1 3 

SHILOH. 


In  the  west  the  day  was  fading, 
Purple  haze  with  twilight  shading, 
And  the  ceaseless  cannonading 

With  its  thunder  died  away; 
Silence  came  with  soft  enthralling, 
And  the  smoke-wreaths  quivering,  falling, 
Like  a  shroud  death's  features  palling, 

Settled  over  Blue  and  Gray. 

Darkness  with  her  mantle  lying, 
Hid  the  forms  of  dead  and  dying, 
Hushed  was  sob  and  moan  and  sighing, 

And  like  weird  uneasy  ghosts, 
Through  the  shuddering  darkness  peering, 
As  of  unseen  danger  fearing, 
Gliding,  flitting,  disappearing, 

Strode  the  sentries  at  their  posts. 

Midnight  silence  softly  creeping 
Lulled  the  war-worn  soldiers  sleeping; 
Death  was  weary  with  his  reaping 

On  that  mighty  harvest  field ; 
Lay  the  fallen  in  their  places, 
With  their  pallid  upturned  faces, 
Glaring  wide  through  vacant  spaces, 

With  fixed  vision  all  unsealed. 

O'er  that  field  with  carnage  reeking, 
Words  of  hope  and  comfort  speaking, 
Soft  came  Mercy's  angels  seeking 

Through  the  plain  of  death  outspread ; 
Where  the  lines  had  clashed  and  striven, 
Where  war's  thunderbolts  had  driven, 
Mangled,  shattered,  rent  and  riven, 

Lay  the  dying  and  the  dead. 


2  1 4  Shiloh. 

Two  amid  the  few  surviving, 

Each  to  other  freely  giving 

Life's  fast  waning  strength,  seemed  striving 

1  ach  the  other's  blood  to  stay 
\Vith  vain  effort,  faint,  despairing, 
Heedless  of  the  torch's  glaring, 
Fast  their  life-blood  ebbing,  wearing 

One  the  Blue,  and  one  the  Gray. 

They  were  brothers,  noble- hearted, 
From  Home's  sacred  threshold  parted 
Kre  war's  lurid  flames  were  started, 

In  the  pleasant  days  long  past; 
1 1  ere  in  shock  of  battle  meeting, 
Where  the  frenzied  d ruins  were  beating, 
Hot  their  rage  to  whitened  heating, 

Steel  to  steel,  they  met  at  last. 

There  in  death  they  knew  each  other, 
Brother  stricken  <jown  by  brother, 
Nurtured  by  the  self-same  mother, 

the  same  soft,  loving  brc 
Ycars  ago  their  paths  diverging, 
Led  their  footsteps  on,  emerging 
Where  the  ocean  tides  were  surging 
In  the  South  and  in  the  \\Y 

When  broke  Discord's  yells  resound  i 
All  the  peaceful  lands  astounding; 
\Vhcn  the  heart  of  Freedom  bounding, 

Thrilled  and  leaped  at  Sumtcr's  fall; 
One  beside  Pacific's  Ocean, 
With  a  patriot's  pure  devotion, 
Stirred  with  deepest,  grand  emotion, 

I  I  card  the  Union  trumpet's  call. 


Shiloh.  2 1 5 

One  beguiled  by  soft  romances, 
Held  in  beauty's  dreamy  trances, 
Where  the  queenly  Crescent  glances 

O'er  the  mighty  river's  mouth, 
Listened  to  the  siren  story, 
Heedless  of  war's  spectre  gory, 
Thrilled  his  soul  with  martial  glory, 

Heard  the  summons  of  the  South. 

Murmured  each  in  accents  dying, 
In  the  shadowy  darkness  lying: 
"Oh,  for  loved  ones,  waiting,  sighing! 

For  the  Old  Kentucky  home  ! 
With  its  blue-grass  glory  seeming 
Reflex  soft  of  heavenly  gleaming; 
Where  fond  hearts  to-night  are  dreaming 

Of  the  wayward  feet  that  roam  ! 

"  Oh,  for  childhood's  fading  vision, 
With  its  glorious  dream  elysian, 
Ere  dark  Hatred's  fell  decision 

Scattered  ruin  far  and  wide; 
Ere  broke  war's  deep,  muttering  thunder ! 
We  are  brothers,  do  ye  wonder  ? 
Tear  us,  part  us  not  asunder!" 

Faintly  whispered  each,  and  died. 

On  that  spot  where  each  had  singled 
Out  his  foe,  when  hatred  tingled — 
There,  their  life-blood  intermingled, 

Still  and  calm  the  brothers  lay; 
By  the  margin  of  the  river, 
In  love's  fond  embrace  forever, 
In  a  Union  none  might  sever, 

Heart  to  heart,  the  Blue  and  Gray. 


216  The  Pall  of  Vanity. 


THE  FALL  OF  VANITY. 

On  his  gorgeous,  gilded  way 
\Yingcd  the  butterfly  one  day, 

'Mid  the  flowery  beauties  sighing, 
And  the  violet  whispered,  "stay," 
And  the  rose  blushed  deeply  red, 
And  the  lily  drooped  her  head, 

As  he  loitered,  fluttered,  flitted, 
Round  each  shrine,  and  onward  sped. 

And  the  triflcr,  weak  and  gay, 
\\Vnt  upon  his  giddy  way, 

And  he  said,  "I  am  more  beautiful, 
More  gorgeous-hued  than  they;" 
And  he  vanished  like  a  dream, 
With  his  evanescent  gleam, 

In  his  glitter  and  his  glory, 
In  the  sun's  refulgent  beam. 

And  he  flitted  here  and  there, 
Sipping  nectar  everywhere, 

With  his  gaudy  wings  outspreading 
On  the  soft  and  balmy  air; 
And  he  .sailed,  and  sailed,  and  sailed, 
'Mid  the  fragrant  breath  exhaled 

By  the  sighing  beauties  longing, 
Till  the  Minsut  splendors  paled. 

But  the  evening  air  grew  cold, 
And  his  plumes  of  !>lue  and  gold 

Weak  and  weaker  vainly  fluttered, 
And  he  lay  upon  the  mold ; 
And  the  fairies  far  and  near, 
•  deck  his  lowly  bier, 

And  the  dew-drops  o'er  him  trembled 
Like  Love's  fondest  parting  tear. 


Jubilee  Poem,  217 

And  each  flowery  beauty  sighed 
Like  a  newly-widowed  bride, 

In  the  twilight's  chilly  gloaming, 
O'er  the  fall  of  gilded  pride  ; 
And  their  tender  fragrance  shed 
O'er  the  dark  and  lowly  bed, 

In  the  hushed  and  lonely  stillness, 
Where  the  butterfly  lay  dead. 


JUBILEE  POEM. 


[Written  for  the  Los  Angeles  Jubilee  Musical  Festival,  and 
read  by  Prof.  S.  H.  Butterfield.] 


Lo,  a  fount  of  crystal  wells  ! 
Lo,  a  song  of  triumph  swells — 
Sweet  and  glad  its  story  tells, 

To  the  sky ; 

As  when  Miriam  went  before 
Israel's  rescued  host  of  yore, 
Holy  radiance  beaming  o'er, 

From  on  high. 

Thou  that  reignest  eternal  still, 
Set  this  tent  upon  Thy  hill ! 
Bless  it  with  Thy  holy  will, 

Even  here, 

As  the  tent  that  held  Thine  ark, 
Through  the  ashen  ages  dark, 
Keeping  still  the  holy  spark 

Bright  and  clear. 

Far  around  life's  deserts  spread; 
Spirits  fainting,  dying,  dead, 
Smiling  Hope  no  more  o'erhead, 
Holdcth  up; 


Jubilee  Poem. 

Bitter,  bitter  as  the  draught, 
Fierce  from  Marah's  fountain  quaffed, 
Mingled  folly,  sin  and  craft, 
Mix  the  cup. 

Lo!  the  way  is  dark  and  drear, 
Wandering  'mid  the  deserts  here; 
Lead  us  to  the  waters  clear, 

Bright  that  spring 
In  the  cool  and  quiet  shade 
Of  the  leaf\',  sylvan  glade-, 
\Yhcrc  the  roses  never  fade, 

Withering. 

Thou  that  boldest  sea  and  land, 
In  the  hollow  of  Thy  hand, 
As  a  shining  grain  of  sand, 

1 1  car  Thy  erring  children's  cry; 
Heedful  of  the  sparrow's  fall, 
1 1  ear  the  fainting  spirit's  call — 
Fettered  by  its  fatal  thrall— 

"Help  us,  or  we  die  !" 

Foster  still  these  zealous  bands, 
Strengthen  still  these  willing  hands, 
Still  to  snatch  the  burning  brands 

From  the  fire; 

Clothe  each  warrior  soul  with  mi;.;ht; 
Strengthen  every  arm  for  right ; 
Let  no  soldier  in  the  fight 
int  or  tire: 

ary  ones  that  sink; 
Nerve  the  timid  feet  that  shrink 
From  the  precipice's  brink, 

Shuddering  o'er; 
And  through  shadowy  vales  of4  ni;.;ht, 

1  them  to  the  mountain  height, 
Crowned  with  everlasting  light, 
We  implore! 


Poem.  2 1 9 

POEM. 


[Written  for  the  Southern  California  Joint  Horticultural  and  Agricultural 
Exposition.     Read  by  Prof.  G.  A.  Dobinson.] 


From  bowers  of  soft,  perpetual  Spring, 
From  mountain  glens  and  sun-kissed  lands, 
With  grateful  hearts,  and  willing  hands, 

Our  offerings,  here  we  bring. 

Not  as  of  old,  from  Israel's  path, 
Through  dreary,  desert  wastes  arise 
The  incense  of  our  sacrifice, 

To  stay  a  Father's  wrath. 

Not  through  the  parted  Red  Sea  waves, 
Our  toilsome,  weary  march  hath  led, 
'Mid  desert  lands,  to  lay  our  dead 

In  loner  forgotten  graves. 

They  rest  within  the  sweet  perfume, 
Where  roses  droop  their  slumber  o'er; 
Where  songsters  carol  evermore, 

And  flowers  eternal  bloom. 

Here,  in  the  sunshine  of  His  love, 
Beside  sweet  Nature's  altars  grand, 
Her  own  annointed  priests  we  stand ; 

His  smiles  our  works  approve. 

Our  night  is  o'er,  our  march  is  done; 
Here  rest  we  'ncath  the  waving  trees, 
Fanned  by  the  breath  of  tropic  seas — 

The  Promised  Land  is  won. 

No  brighter  vision  spread  before 
Lone,  wandering  Israel's  weary  bands, 
Long  groping  'mid  the  desert  sands, 

When  Canaan's  smiling  shore 


220  •;;/. 

Shone  in  its  glory,  soft  revealed 
Beneath  the  gorgeous  Eastern  skies, 
Fair  as  the  dream  of  Paradise — 

No  more  a  mystery  sealed. 

Not  as  the  Roman  legions  came, 
Come  we  to  rule  a  conquered  West, 
Nor  this  fair  land  by  nature  blessed, 

Lay  waste  with  sword  and  flame. 

Proud  conquerors,  crowned  with  festal  flowers, 
\Ve  come  to  rule  a  smiling  land 
With  peaceful  art  and  gentle  hand- 
No  blood-stained  triumph,  ours. 

1 1  ere,  rest  and  dream,  oh,  weary  man  ! 
In  our  soft,  slumb'rous  bowers  of  bliss 
Is  heard  no  wily  Serpent's  1 

There  is  no  Father's  ban. 

Partake  with  us  our  fruits  of  gold 
From  beauteous  hands  that  freely  give; 
•)ice  and  revel,  eat  and  live, 
r  fear  the  curse  of  old. 

Lo !  ample  stores  of  wine  and  oil, 
And  all  the  fruits  of  smiling  Spain, 
And  waving  fields  of  yellow  grain 
ay  the  laborer's  toil. 

No  hopeless  wail,  no  bitter  cry, 
No  groans  from  helot  bands  oppressed, 

:;i  this  bright  Kden  of  the  \\ 
Go  up  to  God  on  hi 

1 1  ere  Freedom's  hand  hath  set  her  seal, 
And  Labor  stands  with  myrtle  wreath, 
Nor  cringes  in  the  du-t  beneath 

The  tyrant's  iron  luvl. 


Poem.  221 

Here  in  these  soft  elysian  vales, 
We  only  feel  that  time  is  fleet ; 
We  only  know  that  life  is  sweet 

As  magic  fairy  tale. 

The  bitter  frosts,  the  chilling  snow 
That  wrapped  our  childhood  home,  but  seem 
As  some  vague,  shadowy,  nightmare  dream, 

That  bound  us  long  ago. 

Here,  safe  from  elemental  wars, 
As  Life  drifts  down  Time's  silvery  stream, 
Shall  sages  muse,  and  poets  dream 

Beneath  thy  lustrous  stars. 

Not  softer  melt  the  zephyr  sighs, 
Where  droop  the  vines  of  sunny  France, 
Nor  brighter,  Beauty's  eyes  that  glance 

'Neath  Andalusia's  skies. 

The  moonbeams  kiss  thy  sleeping  seas, 
As  mothers  fond  their  babes  caress 
With  Love's  soft,  lingering,  sweet  impress, 

When  day's  last  footstep  flees. 

Ne'er  dreamed  by  Arno's  cliffy  side, 
Where  soft  Italia's  myrtles  twine, 
'Rapt  sculptor,  painter,  poet,  bride, 

Of  scenes  more  bright  than  thine. 

Beside  thy  crystal,  sparkling  stream, 
The  dreamer  'mid  the  smiling  flowers, 
O'er  soft  Arcadia's  sylvan  bowers, 

May  cease  to  sigh  and  dream. 

Here  hath  Pomona's  generous  hand, 
Sown  wide  in  measure  all  untold, 
Her  luscious  fruits  of  red  and  gold, 

O'er  all  her  favored  land 


222  Poem. 

The  orange,  girt  with  gold  around, 
Queen  of  her  queenly,  royal  race; 
Type  of  all  beauty,  love  and  grace, 

With  glory  stands  cncnnvned. 

The  swelling  grape  with  purple  dye, 
Scarce  'waits  the  press  to  render  up 
1 1  or  juice,  to  crown  the  festal  cup, 
When  vintage  days  arc  nigh. 

Through  rock-bound  gateways,  ivnt  and  worn, 
The  rivers  seek  the  thirsting  lands, 
And  richer  than  Pactolian  sands, 

Their  offerings  downward  borne. 

The  kingly  Nile  with  generous  hand, 
Brings  not  such  gifts  of  corn  and  grain, 
Brings  not  such  tribute  in  his  train, 

To  Egypt's  hoary  land. 

Bright  visions  still  their  forms  disclose 
From  patient  Time's  unfolding  womb, 
And  all  thy  plains  and  valleys  bloom 

And  blossom  as  the  rose. 

Here  shall  our  glorious  temples  rise 
Beside  the  boundless  \\Vstcrn  sea, 
And  statelier  fanes  to  Liberty 

.n  skies, 

Than  here  shall  crown  the  summits  soon, 
Of  main-  a  proud  (  )lympian  dome, 
When  Art  and  Science  make  their  homr 

lu-iu-ath  our  1  Iarvi-4  Moon. 

So  inert  we  In  iv,  that  we  may  lay 
The  firm  foundations,  deep  and  strong, 
Of  Science,  Labor,  Art  and  Song, 

(  )n  this  an  pinou-  day. 


Eaton,  Prcble  County,  Ohio.  223 

And  as  the  cycling  years  go  'round, 
May  this,  our  fadeless  glory  stand, 
A  perfect  poem,  pure  and  grand, 

With  wreath  perennial  crowned, 

Till  here  beneath  our  generous  skies, 
Earth's  brightest  dawning  day  shall  ope, 
And  Labor,  Learning,  Virtue,  Hope, 

Their  dreams  shall  realize. 


EATON,  PREBLE  COUNTY,  OHIO.* 


[MY   BIRTH-PLACE.] 


My  native  place,  I  know  thee  not — 
No  impress  faint,  no  dream  of  thee, 

Of  cabin  rude,  of  sylvan  spot 
Is  stamped  upon  my  memory. 

All,  all  a  void,  not  e'en  a  trace 

Remembrance  holds,  the  faintest  gleam 
Of  any  spot  or  any  face, 

Of  wood,  or  field,  or  vale,  or  stream. 

Thy  name  recalls  a  gallant  scene — 
Of  Eaton  and  his  dauntless  braves, 

Who  taught  the  Corsair  Algerine 
That  freemen  are  not  eunuch  slaves. 

Thy  name,  O,  Preble!  tells  of  fame — 
Of  freemen's  deeds  and  freemen's  ships, 

That  belched  their  deadly  broadside-flame 
On  pirate  lairs,  from  iron  lips. 

f  In  response  to  a  letter  from  a  friend  describing  it. 


224  Eaton,  Prcble  County,  Ohio. 

I  kno\v  Ohio's  noble  land 

Is  blest  with  nobk-  homes,  and  sons 

And  daughters,  and  an  empire  grand, 
That  freedom  loves  and  slavery  shi 

I  know  her  Summer  skies  arc  blue, 
Her  mellow  Autumn  days  serene, 

Her  fading  leaves — what  gorgeous  hue! 
Her  Wintry  blasts — how  cold  and  keen! 

Soft  in  the  Indian  Summer's  haze, 
That  lingers  as  in  sad  regret, 

Her  gleaming  crown  of  golden  maize 
Upon  her  queenly  brow  is  set. 

From  childhood's  scenes,  with  tears  and 

\Yc  wander  far  away,  alas  ! 
And  dream  'ncath  softer  stars  and  skies, 
Sweet  dreams  that  never  come  to  p; 

How  circumscribed  thy  widest  scope! 

O,  human  heart,  how  incomplete 
Thy  triumphs  grand,  thy  fondest  ho; 

Thy  deepest  draught  how  bitter-sweet! 

And  still  each  land  shall  keep  and  hold 
Its  lovers  with  some  mystic  spell, 

\Yith  some  sweet  magic,  new  or  old, 
Knthrall  their  hearts,  and  it  is  well. 

Where  golden  fruits  of  glory  gleam, 
Kissed  by  the  balmy,  fragrant  air 

Of  tropic  seas,  I  lie,  and  dream 
No  other  land  can  be  as  fair. 

'live-plume  or  sighing  palm 
Waves  listless  in  thy  summer  breeze, 
Nor  mingles  with  thy  zephyrs'  balm 
The  fragrant  breath  of  orange  trees. 


San  Die^o.  225 

Yet,  them  art  doubtless  fair  and  sweet 
To  those  who,  from  their  earliest  birth, 

Have  wandered  not  with  restless  feet — 
The  fairest  spot  on  all  the  earth. 

Yea!  Life  is  but  a  maze  of  dreams ! 

And  doubtless  dear  to  thcc  and  thine 
Those  woods,  and  vales,  and  murmuring  streams, 

As  these  soft  skies  to  me  and  mine. 

I  know  not  if  a  fairer  land 

My  weary,  wandering  feet  have  found, 
Beside  the  sighing  Western  strand 

In  green,  and  gold,  and  azure  bound; 

I  know  a  solveless  mystery, 

As  haunts  some  undeciphered  scroll, 
Broods  o'er  the  everlasting  sea, 

To  soft  enchain  the  longing  soul. 

How  vague  the  vast  eternal  sweep  ! 

And  gazing  o'er  the  wide  expanse, 
Its  way  is  lost  'mid  tangles  deep, 

In  dreamy  mazes  of  romance. 


SAN  DIEGO. 


O,  maiden,  that  idly  loiters, 

And  lookcst  with  longing  gaze, 

Where  the  spread  of  the  endless  waters 
Melts  into  the  dreamy  haze  ! 

What  sound  to  thy  spirit,  yearning, 

Is  borne  on  the  sylph-winged  breeze  ? 
'Ncath  the  glow  of  the  sunset  burning, 


What  is  it  thy  vision  sees? 
15 


226  San  Diego. 


"  In  the  coming  of  Time's  mutations, 
Borne  swift  on  his  pinions  fleet, 

I  hear  the  march  of  the  Nations' — 
The  murmur  of  countless  feet. 

"  The  music  of  sailors'  singing 
Borne  soft  on  the  spicy  breeze ; 

A  vision  of  white  wings,  winging 
Afar  o'er  the  tropic  seas. 

"Faint  glimpses  of  isles  of  coral 
Asleep  on  the  ocean's  breast, 

Encrowncd  with  their  glories  floral, 
I  see  in  the  mystic  West, 

"  That  evermore  glance  and  sparkle 

Like  jewels  of  blazing  light, 
And  tremulous,  dance  and  darkle 

And  fade  from  the  yearning  sight. 

"  The  Queens  of  the  Orient  beckon 
Afar  with  their  jeweled  hands, 

And  the  Princes  impatient  reckon 
The  leagues  of  the  desert  lands, 

"That  spread  with  their  broad  division 
Away  towards  the  gates  of  light, 

And  glare  as  in  fierce  derision 

On  lover,  and  prince,  and  knight." 

O,  maiden,  with  glance  of  longing, 
Dream-rapt  by  the  sighing  shore, 

Soon,  soon  shall  thy  courtiers,  thronging, 
Their  gifts  at  thy  feet  outpour. 

The  kings  of  the  earth  shall  woo  thcc 
Though  obstacles  dark  deter, 

And  suitors  from  far  haste  to  thce 
With  incense,  and  spice  and  myrrh. 


Lethe.  227 

And  the  tide  in  thy  veins  shall  quicken 

As  torrents  that  seaward  pour, 
And  the  masts  in  thy  harbor  thicken 

As  jungle  on  India's  shore. 


LETHE. 


Sweet  is  the  grave's  soft  sleep, 
Silent  and  hushed  and  deep — 

Nevermore  pain  or  sorrow, 
Nevermore  toil  or  care, 
Weariness  or  despair, 

Waking  to  doubt,  to-morrow. 

Welcome,  O,  Lethean  draught, 
That  the  pale  lips  have  quaffed 

Centuries,  long  unnumbered ; 
Quaffing  they  ceased  from  toil, 
Fretting  and  life's  turmoil ; 

Resting,  forgot  and  slumbered  ! 

Thine  is  the  cordial  sweet 
Soothing  with  spell  complete, 

Never  again  forsaking; 
Thine  is  the  siren  kiss, 
Lulling  to  endless  bliss — 

Slumber  that  knows  no  waking. 

Come  when  thou  wilt,  O,  Death  ! 
Welcome  thy  mystic  breath — 

Why  should  we  sigh  and  shiver? 
Why  should  we  swerve  and  shrink, 
Standing  beside  the  brink 

Of  the  Eternal  river  ? 


22$  Pioneer  AV:v/7/t\ 


PIONFKR  REVEILLE. 

Lurid  ila-h  from  memory's  gleam 

Backward  c 
Was  it  but  a  fevered  dream 

Of  the  past, 

But  a  gorgeous,  glittering  train 
Sleep  engendered  in  the  brain, 
But  a  baseless  vision  vain, 

Gone  at  last  ? 

Once  again  I  sec  the  bow 

Bright  o'cr-arch ; 
Feel  the  desert's  fiery  glow 

Sear  and  parch ; 

I  Icar  our  tread  !— the  startled  land 
Shakes,  as  billows  shake  the  strand, 
Once  again  the  quick  command, 
urward,  march!" 

Where  the  icy  torrents  coursed, 

Swift  we  came; 
Nature's  mighty  barriers  forced, 

Wilds  made  tame; 
Conquered,  trampled,  everyone 
Fortune  wooed,  and  empire  won, 
Plain  and  mountain  over-run 

As  with  flame. 

Comrades,  silent,  are  ye  all 

Slumber-wrapped  ~J 
Ye,  the  mighty  mountain  wall 

Mined   and   sapped ; 
Like  Cannae's  conquering  hosts 
Lured  from  Glory  1  posts, 

Dreaming  on  the  silken  coasts 

Luxury-lapped  ? 


Pioneer  Reveille. 

Bugles,  sound  the  Reveille  ! 

Comrades,  wake  ! 
Ye  that  slumber  by  the  sea, 

Stream,  and  lake, 
Rouse  ye  all !  The  sun  is  bright 
On  each  snowy  mountain  height, 
There  are  battles  still  to  fight — 

Heights  to  take. 

In  the  vale  where  sings  the  lark 

In  the  glow; 
In  the  canyons,  deep  and  dark — • 

In  the  snow, 

In  the  mountains,  they  are  there, 
In  the  scorching  desert's  glare, 
Scattered,  sleeping  everywhere — 

Lying  low. 

Some  have  laid  them  down  to  rest 

In  the  mines ; 
Some,  with  heat  and  toil  oppressed, 

'Neath  the  vines  ; 

Vain  the  tears  that  loved  ones  weep, 
On  the  mountain  heights  they  sleep 
Where  the  snow-pall  shrouds  them  deep, 

'Neath  the  pines. 

Resting  some  with  eyes  at  last 

Slumber-sealed, 
Where  the  cannon's  vengeful  blast 

Loudly  pealed ; 
Perished  in  the  deadly  fray, 
Where  contending  Blue  and  Gray, 
Met  to  mingle  clay  with  clay 

On  the  field. 


229 


230  To  the  Soul. 

Standing  once  as  firm  and  true 

As  a  wall ; 
Vanished  as  the  morning* clew, 

Comrades  all ; 

Borne  as  leaves  upon  the  blast 
Scattered  rudely,  far  and  fast, 
As  when  north  winds  eddy  past 

In  the  Fall. 

I  have  sought  to  rouse  them  all, 

As  of  yore ; 
But  a  shadow  like  a  pall, 

Broodcth  o'er ; 

Sleep  again  shall  ne'er  forsake  them, 
Earthquake  shocks  may  vainly  shake  them, 
Bugle  blasts  again  shall  wake  them 
crmorc. 


TO  THE  SOUL. 


O,  thou  essence  immaterial 
As  the  viewless  air  ethereal, 
Lighting  with  thy  mystic  taper 

All  our  being,  all  our  ways ; 
Earthly  bonds  defiant  scorning, 
Eading  like  the  stars  at  morning, 
Vanishing  like  fleecy  vapor    , 
In  the  sunshine's  dazzling  rays! 

Vain  the  efforts  to  enchain  thce— 
Never  mortal  eye  hath  seen  thce, 
Coming,  going,  mystic  ever, 

As  the  wayward,  wandering  wind; 
Rustling,  rushing,  sweeping,  sighing, 
Loitering,  lingering,  listless  dying, 
Silent  fleeing,  gone  forever, 
Leaving  not  a  trace  behind. 


Glory  s  Last  Dream.  231 

Vainly,  vainly  seek  we  ever 
With  a  yearning,  fond  endeavor, 
Still  to  solve  the  secret  hidden 

From  Time's  earliest  dawn,  as  now; 
Whither,  when  thy  mission  ended, 
And  thy  breath -with  air  is  blended 
Like  the  trembling  mist  ascended, 

Lost  to  vision,  goest  thou  ? 


GLORY'S  LAST  DREAM. 


O'er  the  mountains  of  the  Horn, 
Softly  stole  the  flush  of  morn, 
Lighting  all  that  sylvan  scene 
With  a  heavenly  smile  serene 
Slumbering  softly  far  away, 
Calm  and  sweet  the  Rosebud  lay; 
And  toward  the  tropic  zone, 
Rolled  the  flashing  Yellowstone. 

Softly  fell  the  picket's  tramp 
'Round  the  slumbering,  peaceful  camp; 
Not  a  sound  of  life  was  heard ; 
Not  a  drooping  banner  stirred ; 
O'er  each  sleeper's  raptured  soul, 
Visions  bright  and  radiant  stole, 
Gorgeous  as  the  rainbow's  gleams; 
Ah!  those  visions!  What  those  dreams 
Drifting  brightly  as  the  foam  ? — 
All  of  glory,  all  of  home; 
All  of  loved  ones  far  away; 
Some  of  children  at  their  play, 
Silvery  voices  sweet  and  clear; 
Some  of  wives  and  sweethearts  dear, 


Glory  s  Last  Dream. 

hers,  sisters,  tender  eyes, 
Soft  and  sweet  as  dewy  skies — 
Slumbering-,  sighing,  dreaming  all, 
Till  the  thrilling  bugle's  call 
Ringing  out  the  reveille, 
Bade  the  shadow)-  visions  flee, 
And  the  dream-chased  night  was  past— 
Brightest  of  the  earth,  and  last. 

,iw;iy,  extended,  full, 
Lay  the  might  of  Sitting  Bull; 
In  the  morn's  bright,  raidant  glow, 
Gleamed  the  lodges  of  the  foe, 
Standing  in  the  purple  morn, 
Countless  as  the  shocks  of  corn 
With  their  hidden  golden  grains, 
On  Nebraska's  boundless  plains. 

"Mount!" — a  sudden  leap  and  stir, 

te  to  belt,  and  boot  and  spur, 
And  in  straight  and  moveless  lines — 
True  and  strong  as  serried  pines, 
Clorc  and  tall  in  forest  wood — 
Dark  and  grim  the  warriors  stood. 

"Forward!" — with  impetuous  leap 
Swift  the  thundering  squadrons  sweep, 
Onward  sweeps  the  gallant  band; 
"Halt!" — and  at  the  quick  command, 
Dense  ami  dark  the  squadrons  form, 
As  the  clouds  before  the  storm. 

"Charge  !" — a  clang  of  flashing  steel 
An-\\vivd  swift  the  rifle  peal ; 
Like  the  vivid  lightning's  Hash, 
Fell  the  sudden  sabre's  crash; 
Mingled  cheer  and  savage  yell, 
Of  the  shock  of  battle  tell: 


Glory's  Last  Dream.  233 

Like  the  waves  on  rock-ribbed  coasts, 
Broke  against  those  savage  hosts 
Of  the  mighty  Western  plain, 
Martial  pride  and  strength  in  vain. 

Long  the  battle  raged  and  rolled, 
Long  they  struggled  in  that  fold 
Deadlier  than  the  boa's  coil, 
While  their  life-blood  dyed  the  soil, 
Till  all  hope  of  earth  was  past — 
Storming,  charging,  to  the  last; 
Sharp  the  deadly  rifles  crashed, 
Swift  and  keen  the  sabres  flashed. 
Like  a  meteor  in  the  skies, 
Blazed  the  young  commander's  eyes; 
Like  a  bugle's  martial  clang, 
Still  his  clarion  voice  outrang, 
Cheering  with  its  latest  breath 
On  to  victory — or  death. 

Deeply  flushed  the  evening  skies, 
With  the  sunset's  crimson  dyes; 
But  a  deeper  flush  of  red 
All  the  valley  overspread  ; 
Battle-wreck  and  hero-gore 
Strewed  the  earth's  sad  bosom  o'er, 
O'er  the  plain,  late' battle-swept, 
Awful  stillness  shuddering  crept, 
O'er  the  earth,  o'er  everything, 
Hush,  as  naught  but  death  can  bring. 
Where  had  rolled  the  tide  of  strife, 
Not  a  throb  or  breath  of  life, 
Not  a  hero  left  to  tell 
How  thy  fought  and  how  they  fell, — 
With  the  dying  sunset's  ray, 
Passed  fond  Glory's  dream  away. 


234  Dreams  of  an  Hour. 


DREAMS  OF  AN  HOUR. 


Dreams  of  the  sea  and  land  ! 
Of  soft  skies  rainbow-spanncd ; 
Of  tropic  palms  and  coral  isles, 

Soft-kissed  by  murmuring  seas; 
Of  lands  that  slumber  bright, 
Soft  in  the  Orient  light, 

Lulled  into  trance  by  Heaven's  own  smiles, 
Faint  fanned  by  fragrant  breeze. 

Fond  dreamer,  silken  bound, 
With  glory  bright  cncrowned, 

No  clouds  thy  bright  horizon  shade, 

Sweet  zephyrs  idly  play; 
O,  dreamer,  soft  dream  on; 
The  coming  of  the  dawn 

Shall  sec  thy  gorgeous  visions  fade, 
As  shadows  fleet  away  ! 

Dream  still  of  rosy  bowers, 
Of  bursting  buds,  and  flowers, 

Of  mazy  paths  by  crystal  streams, 

Of  mirrored  cloud  and  sky; 
Thy  dreams  shall  perish  soon, 
Thy  sky  o'crcast  ere  noon, 
Uplit  by  swift  electric  gleams, 
That  sudden  Hash  and  die. 

Fond  dreamer  of  an  hour, 
1  MI  thralled  by  magic  power, 

Soon,  soon  shall  fade  the  mirage  gleams, 

Thy  fairs-  trance  be  < 
Thy  visions  melt  and  pass, 
As  dcw-diMj)^  on  the  gra 

Gray  dawn  shall  chase  thy  gorgeous  dreams, 
To  come  attain  no  more. 


Bubble  and  Shadow.  235 


BUBBLE  AND  SHADOW. 


Life  is  but  as  an  ever-changing  dream — 

A  shining  bubble  on  Time's  changeless  stream ; 

A  wayward  zephyr  all  too  rudely  blows — 
Forever  gone  its  bright,  prismatic  gleam. 

Our  foolish  lives  are  mirrored  as  in  glass, 
And  instant  flit  as  shadows  o'er  the  grass, 

Urged  onward  by  a  mystic  power  unseen — 
One  moment  linger  and  forever  pass. 

O,  Life!  how  like  a  foolish  play  half  done; 
An  aimless  journey  ended,  scarce  begun ; 

Absorbed  all  sudden  by  relentless  Death, 
As  trembling  dew  drank  by  the  ardent  sun. 

The  gilded  barks  of  ages,  proud  and  free, 
Have  heaved  and  tossed  on  Time's  eternal  sea; 

And  countless  dreamers  through  the  countless  years, 
Have  dreamed  their  dreams  as  fond  and  bright  as  we. 

Fled  is  the  splendor  of  their  transient  day, 
Their  gorgeous  dreams  of  Empire  passed  away, 
Gone  the  faint  glimmer  of  their  fitful  light — 
Their  swords  and  sceptres  moulder  in  decay. 

O,  vague,  dim  phantoms!  O,  unquiet  rest! 
Full  of  a  haunting  terror,  half  suppressed, 

That  come  and  go  as  shadowy  clouds  that  pass, 
Why  do  ye  come  to  mock  the  human  breast  ? 

Borne  sadly  onward,  like  the  leaves  that  fall, 
Toward  Oblivion's  all-enshrouding  pall, 

We  vainly  stretch  our  supplicating  hands, 
Then  viewless  vanish — bubble,  shadow,  all. 


2  3  6  A    Vision  of  a  Day. 

( >,  human  life!  how  frail  and  incomplete; 

I  low  fraught  with  trembling  hope  and  bitter-sweet; 

The  smiling  Present's  empty  bubble-dreams 
The  lessons  of  the  perished  Past  repeat. 


A  VISION  OF  A  DAY. 


Morning — a  blushing  of  skies  rosy-red, 
Music  and  song  as  of  revel  and  feast, 
Blossom  and  bloom  on  the  spray  overhead, 
Blushes  and  "flushes  as  bride  newly  wed, 
Over  the  face  of  the  soft  dewy  East. 

Noontide — a  gushing  of  glory  and  glow, 
Pulsing  of  labor,  and  murmur  of  bee, 

I  lurry  of  feet  o'er  the  earth  to  and  fro, 

Grape  of  the  vintage  and  fruit  of  the  tree; 

LitV,  like  the  ocean's  swift  tide  in  its  flow 
Vexing  the  breast  of  eternity's  sen, 
Gone  in  a  moment  forever — ah,  me  ! 

Evening — a  flushing  of  crimson  and  gold, 
Shadows  in  zenith,  and  flames  in  the  west; 
.lit  with  her  soft,  starry  curtain  unrolled, 
Heads  for  the  pillow,  and  birds  for  the  nest; 

Sighs  'ncath  the  willow  and  tears  on  the  mold, 
Weary  hands  folded  in  prncc  on  the  breast. 

Midnight — a  hushing  to  silence  and  sleep, 
Quiver  of  starlight,  and  dew  on  the  i 

Shiver  of  moonbeam,  and  mystery  deep, 
Pale  weary  eyelids  that  tremble  and  close, 
Respite  from  sorrow,  and  rest  and  repose. 


Sea,   O,  Sea  !  237 

SEA,  O,  SEA! 


Sea,  O,  sea!  why  dost  thou  sigh 

Like  a  dreamer  in  his  sleep? 
Soft  and  still  the  shadows  lie, 

Trembling  on  thy  bosom  deep; 
Sea-nymphs  in  their  coral  caves 

Sing  their  tender  lullaby, 
Laving  in  thy  crystal  waves — 

Sea,  O,  sea!  why  dost  thou  sigh  ? 

Sea,  O,  sea!  why  dost  thou  moan 

In  the  hush  of  midnight  deep, 
Like  some  mourner  sad  and  lone, 

Starting  from  her  troubled  sleep  ? 
Haunts  thy  throbbing,  heavjng  breast 

Still  the  sinking  sailor's  groan, 
Thus,  that  thou  canst  never  rest  ? — 

Sea,  O,  sea !  why  dost  thou  moan  ? 

Sea,  O,  sea !  why  dost  thou  fret, 

Restless  ever  in  thy  woe, 
Like  the  hearts  that  ne'er  forget 

Memories  of  the  long  ago  ? 

o        o 

Do  tfic  visions  of  the  past 

Shadow  o'er  and  haunt  thec  yet — 
Visions  all  too  bright  to  last  ? 

Sea,  O,  sea!  why  dost  thou  fret  ? 

Dost  thou  sigh  for  ages  gone, 

Wealth  and  splendor  faded,  flown, 
Venice  in  her  maiden  dawn — 

Carthage  dreamless,  overthrown  ? 
Athens  gazing  like  a  bride, 

O'er  the  blue  Egean,  free, 
Gleaming  in  her  jeweled  pride  ? — 

Moan  no  more,  oh,  haunted  sea ! 


238  A  Song  of  Thanksgiving. 

Other  cities  yet  to  be, 

Proud  and  fair  as  purple  Tyre, 
At  thy  feet  shall  bend  the  knee, 

Yielding  to  thy  fond  desire. 
Break  the  dim,  enchanted  spell ! 

Bid  the  haunting  memories  flee ! 
To  the  past,  a  fond  farewell ! 

Sleep  and  dream,  O,  sighing  sea! 


A  SONG  OF  THANKSGIVING 


(live  a  song  of  praise  to  the  Giver  of  good, 

Let  it  thrill  through  the  skies  with  a  grand  emotion ; 

Let  it  roll  as  the  strength  of  the  mighty  flood 
In  its  rushing  path  to  the  boundless  ocean. 

.lad,  free  song,  of  the  heart's  sweet  lyre, 
Like  the  song  of  triumph  of  Jcphthah's  daughter, 
When  her  swift  feet  hastened  to  meet  her  sire, 

To  welcome  him  home  from  the  field  of  slaughter. 

Let  it  startle  the  valleys  and  float  on  the  breeze, 
Like  the  battle's  grand  thunder-chorus  ringing; 

As  the  voice  of  the  billows,  when  angry  9 

Their  might  on  the  shores  of  earth  arc  flinging. 

There  is  springing  hope  where  was  dark  despair, 

.d  nature  hath  wept  o'er  the  earth's  deep  sorrow; 
There  is  verdure  soft  where  were  hillsi 

And  the  skies  are  bright  for  the  coining  morrow. 

Soon,  soon  shall  the  plain  spread  her  carpet  bright, 
And  the  orange  shall  .shed  her  balmy  sweetness 

'Round  the  Spring's  s<>it  mm  her  wreath  of  white, 

Like  a  bride  arrayed  in  fond  Love's  completeness; 


A   Song  of  Thanksgiving  239 

The  dcwdrops  sparkle,  like  gems  adorning 
Proud  Beauty's  ears,  and  the  sky-larks  sing 

In  the  soft,  sweet  hush  of  the  crimson  morning, 
A  song  of  welcome  to  bright-eyed  Spring ; 

"The  gloom  is  o'er  and  the  night  is  past, 

And  the  spell-bound  slumber  of  nature  over; 

Sweet,  O,  sweet,  have  you  come  at  last? 

We  will  build  our  nest  in  your  blossomed  clover." 

On  each  mountain  slope,  from  crown  to  base, 
She  hath  left  the  trace  of  her  fairy  fingers, 

And  over  the  valley's  awakened  face, 

The  magic  thrill  of  her  sweet  kiss  lingers. 

Tlie  fawn  shall  stray  and  the  lamb  shall  skip, 

Unheedful,  all,  of  the  wolf's  fell  malice; 
And  the  butterfly  flaunt,  and  the  bee  shall  sip 

His  nectar  pure  from  the  flowery  chalice. 

Through  the  throbbing  veins  of  each  laughing  stream, 
The  crystal  current  shall  pulse  and  quicken; 

And  the  humming-bird  flash,  like  a  fairy  dream, 

Through  the  leafy  bowers  where  the  rose-buds  thicken. 

Proud  ships  shall  come  for  the  crowding  freight, 

And  golden  dreams  to  the  weary  sleeper; 
And  purple  grapes  for  the  vintage  wait, 

And  bending  harvests,  the  sun-browned  reaper. 

Rejoice,  O,  sower  !  Rejoice,  O,  lands  ! 

In  the  promise  of  peace  and  plenty  given; 
Though  the  years  may  number  as  grains  of  sand, 

There  is  mercy  and  truth  and  love  in  heaven. 

The  word  of  man  is  as  morning  dew, 

As  foam  that  seethes  on  the  rushing  river, 
A  mist  that  melts  in  the  ether  blue, 

But  His  promise  endures,  and  shall  stand  forever. 


240  A    Vision. 

A  VISION. 


[Written  during  the  An'.i-<  'hincsc  and  Kearney  agitation.] 

I  dreamed  a  dream  that  was  not  all  a  dream — 
A  dream  of  smiling  skies  and  virgin  lar. 

And  glorious  vales,  where  every  crystal  stream, 
Soft  murmuiv  1  >e..iward  over  golden  sands; 

,-heartcd,  brawny,  bronzed,  strong-bearded  bands 

Of  men  stood  in  the  early  morning  beam; 

The  mountains  sank  beneath  their  Titan  hands; 

Dim  caves  reflected  far  the  pick's  bright  gleam, 

.And  manhood,  hope  and  justice  reigned  supreme. 

Proud  in  the  strength  of  manhood's  hopeful  years, 
Grand  in  the  vigor  of  their  giant  might, 

The  joyous,  heedless,  careless  pioneers 

Sang,  in  the  soft  glow  of  the  golden  light, 
That  mighty  hymn  of  Justice  and  of  Right, 

That  men  drank  in  with  eager  listening  cars, 

Kre  Hope's  bright  sun  had  set  in  gloom  and  night 

Knvironcd  with  a  thousand  nameless  fears, 

Or  drooping  Faith  sank  down  'mid  sighs  and  tears. 

A  low,  sweet  murmur  as  of  golden  bees — 
Fair  cities  rose  and  stood  with  gaze  elate, 

Their  glad  songs  wafted  on  the  western  breeze, 
And  one,  the  (Jueen,  beside  the  Golden  Gate, 
Fnthmned  in  purple,  kept  her  royal  state  ; 

1 1 rr  fame  was  spread  through  all  the  earth's  degrees, 
Her  favors  sought  by  lowly  and  by  gre.it, 

Her  white-winged  commerce  shadowed  all  the  seas, 

And  fair-haired  children  clustered  'round  her  knees. 

A  little  time,  and  lo !  a  mighty  change 

Came  o'er  the  land's  soft,  smiling,  peaceful  face; 

No  longer  in  the  mart,  the  mine,  the  grange, 

Found  truth,  and  trust,  and  brotherhood  a  place; 


A    Vision.  241 

Man  left  his  fellow-man  in  life's  swift  race 
To  faint  and  fall,  and  faces  new  and  strange, 

In  turn  eclipsed  him  in  the  giddy  chase; 
And  where  equality  was  wont  to  range, 
Were  pampered  pride  and  hatred  in  exchange. 

Man  to  his  brother-man  no  longer  just, 

On  couch  luxurious  made  his  slothful  bed, 
And  slumbered  o'er  the  crater's  quivering  crust 

Unheedful  of  the  throbbing  lava  dread. 

Faith,  love  and  holy  charity  were  dead, 
Truth,  honor,  virtue  trampled  into  dust, 

To  rise  again  no  more ;  and  in  their  stead, 
Came  hellish  jealousy,  and  dark  distrust, 
And  hatred,  envy,  avarice  and  lust. 

Worth,  friendless,  starved,  and  riches  were  adored, 

Dishonor  vile,  seized  Honor's  sacred  posts, 
And  tainted  Vice  sat  at  the  social  board, 

And  lorded  o'er  the  land  with  sneers  and  boasts ; 

As  swarms  of  locusts  o'er  the  sighing  coasts, 
More  deadly  than  the  warrior's  vengeful  sword, 

Rose  as  a  cloud,  dark  Asia's  leprous  hosts, 
And  on  the  shores  defenseless,  ceaseless  poured 
A  countless,  smothering,  heathen,  Tartar  horde. 

Proud  Labor  hid  her  face  in  darkened  caves, 
Or  begged  for  bread  with  haggard  visage  lean ; 

The  land  was  swayed  by  demagogues  and  knaves, 
And  purse-proud  Arrogance,  with  haughty  mich 
And  lip  contemptuous,  strode  upon  the  scene; 

The  cliffs  leaned  trembling  o'er  the  burdened  waves, 
A  mildew-blight  fell  o'er  her  gorgeous  sheen 

And  all  her  altars  fair,  and  sacred  graves 

Were  trampled  by  the  feet  of  alien  slaves. 

16 


242  A    Vision. 

First,  faint  indifference,  then  submission  tame, 

As  slumbcrers  wakened,  yet  but  half-awake; 
A  consciousness  of  wrong,  then  burning  shame, 

And  longing  from  the  deadly  toils  to  break. 

As  storms  the  bosom  of  the  placid  lake 
Upheave,  men  rose  and  with  a  loud  acclaim, 

Asked  right,  for  bastard  wrong  born  of  mistake; 
Then  deadly  Discord,  clothed  with  vengeance,  came 
\Yith  bloody  sword  and  desolating  flame. 

The  skies  were  lurid  with  the  midnight  glare 

Of  vengeful,  fierce,  incendiary  fire; 
Men  ga/.ed  upon  the  ruin,  in  despair, 

That  told  of  quenchless  hatred  deep  and  dire; 

Hope's  lamp  gleamed  but  a  moment,  to  expire 
In  deeper  darkness — not  a  ray  was  there 

To  light  the  gloom — the  coward  took  his  hire, 

1  red  Assassination  came  to  dare, 
And  shook  his  bloody  dagger  in  the  air. 

The  queenly  City  on  her  western  shore, 

No  longer  held  a  captive  world  in  thrall; 
The  Goths,  and  Vandals  clamored  at  her  door, 

And  plucked  her  proud  patricians  in  her  hall. 

Deep  gloom  and  darkness  gathered  over  all, 
1  ler  golden  dream  of  luxury  was  o'er; 

Kate's  stern  handwriting  gleamed  upon  the  wall. 
Life's  glorious  flowers  bloomed  in  her  groves  no  more; 
Her  garncrc'd  fruit  was  rotten  to  the  core. 

Dimmed  was  the  splendor  of  her  jeweled  gleam, 

Cold,  slimy  serpents  crawled  around  her  feet, 
Black,  pirate  banners  flaunted  o'er  her  stream, 

Wild  Arabs  tented  in  each  gl  rcct. 

Dark  desolation  reigned  o'er  all  complete — 
The  wolf's  long  howl,  the  vulture's  boding  scream; 

The  masts  lay  prostrate  o'er  her  rotting  fleet — 
Wreck,  riot,  ruin,  reigned  o'er  all  supreme; 
I  woke,  and  lo ! — a  hideous  nightmare  dream  ! 


"Dust  and  Ashes"  243 

The  moonlight  lay  upon  the  gleaming  tide, 

Unvexcd  by  earth's  sore,  pricking,  chafing  ills ; 
The  dreaming  City,  like  a  jeweled  bride, 

Slept  soft  and  peaceful  on  her  thousand  hills ; 

Yet  through  my  soul  an  awful  presage  thrills, 
Of  vague  impending  ruin  far  and  wide; 

Such  fear  as  heart  of  mortal  ever  stills, 
When  earthquakes  heave  and  rushing  whirlwinds  ride 
To  humble  haughty  pomp  and  human  pride. 


"  DUST  AND  ASHES." 

Dust  and  ashes,  death  and  pall, 
Faded  light  and  withered  bloom, 
Sorrow,  hush,  decay  and  doom — , 

It  is  written  over  all. 

Vistas  of  the  far  away, 
Visions  of  the  long  ago, 
Voices  tender,  soft  and  low — 

How  ye  thrill  my  soul  to-day. 

Through  the  misty  veil  of  years 
Vanished  visions  slowly  rise — 
Spring,  with  rainbow-haloed  skies, 

April,  with  her  smiles  and  tears; 

Blended  music,  soft  and  low, 
Insect  hum,  and  song  of  bees, 
Daisies  and  anemones 

Nodding  by  the  streamlet's  flow. 

Drooping  low  with  weary  wing 
Wandering  zephyrs  faint  and  die — 
Dreamy  violets  raptured  lie 

In  the  tender  arms  of  Spring. 


244  " Dust  and  Ashes" 

Music  sweet,  of  blooming  May! 
How  the  birds  at  early  morn 
Sine;  ecstatic  from  the  thorn, 

Sweet  amid  the  snowy  spray. 

Oh,  the  flush  of  rosy  June  ! 
How  the  memory  of  the  past 
Sobs  itself  to  sleep  at  last, 

Like  a  weary  child  at  noon. 


Golden  links  in  memory's  chain — 
Hope,  and  Faith,  and  Love,  and  Truth, 
Severed  with  the  dream  of  youth — 

Oh,  to  live  a  life  again ! 

Cease,  O,  weary  heart,  to  long ! 
It  was  but  a  transient  gleam; 
But  a  fitful,  fading  dream — 

Echo  of  some  siren  song. 

Dust  and  ashes  arc  thy  hopes — 
Even  as  the  shades  that  pass 
Swiftly  o'er  the  burnished  gl; 

Or  the  tender  bud  that  opes, 

But  to  wither  at  the  breath 
Of  the  chill  September  frost, 
All  its  flush  and  glory  lost 

In  the  hush  and  gloom  of  death. 

Cease,  O,  memory,  cease  to  fret ! 
Let  thy  perished  idols  sleep, 
Myrrh-embalmed  and  hidden  deep — 

Sleep,  O  memory,  and  forget ! 


A  Song  of  the  Old  and  the  New.  24$ 

A  SONG  OF  THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW. 


[Written  on  New  Year's  Eve.] 


What  song  shall  we  sing  of  thanksgiving? 

WThat  prayer  from  the  soul  shall  be  said  ? 
What  hymn  to  the  love  that  is  living  ? 

What  requiem  chant  for  the  dead  ? 

For  the  new,  there  is  voiceful  devotion 
Like  the  soft,  dreamy  murmur  of  bees  ; 

For  the  dead,  there  is  heart-stirred  emotion 
Like  sobbing  and  sighing  of  seas. 

Oh,  dead  love  so  dreamlessly  sleeping, 
We  bend  o'er  thy  cold,  lifeless  clay ; 

'Mid  sorrow,  and  sighing,  and  weeping, 
We  bear  thee  in  silence  away  ! 

Thou  art  gone  as  a  dream  that  is  ended — 
As  endeth  the  sweet  singer's  song; 

Thou  art  snapped  as  a  bow  that  is  bended 
With  tension  too  lasting  and  strong. 

Like  a  wanderer,  phantom — affrighted, 
Thy  bloom  fled  away  ere  thy  time, 

Ere  thy  fullness  of  hope  thou'  wast  blighted, 
And  withered  ere  yet  in  thy  prime. 

Fond  hopes  that  we  tenderly  cherished, 

Illusory,  vanished  and  died; 
Thy  promise  of  fruitfulness  perished, 

Thy  sweet 'founts  of  nourishment  dried. 

In  the  pageant  of  death  we  array  thcc 
As  bride,  in  her  bridal-robes  dressed; 

In  the  grave  of  the  ages  we  lay  thce, 
White  roses  and  red,  on  thy  breast. 


246  A  Son^  of  the  Old  and  the  A, 

Cut  down  by  death's  keen,  flashing  sickle, 
\Yc  lay  thcc  to  sleep  'ncath  the  dew; 

Like  lover  inconstant  and  fickle, 
We  turn  from  the  old  to  the  new. 

***** 

In  the  mazes  of  time  we  have  found  thcc, 
Kncirclcd  with  glory,  O,  sweet! 

Sweet  odors  arc  wafting  around  thcc, 
And  flowers  encompass  thy  feet 

Soft  lace  half  thy  beauty  discloses, 
Bright  jewels  thy  bosom  adorn, 

Thy  breath  is  as  breath  of  the  roses 
When  sparkle  the  dew-drops  of  morn. 

Oh,  beautiful  bride,  sweet  and  tender, 
That  linkcst  thy  life  with  our  own, 

Thou  hast  come  in  thy  glory  and  splendor 
Like  rose  of  the  Summer,  full-blown. 

Full-blown  as  the  sweet  water-lily 

on  thr  bright  silver  tide, 
When  north-winds,  with  bitter  breath  chilly, 
No  longer  in  south-land-;  abide. 

By  streamlet,  and  bright  crystal  fountain 
Thou  standcst,  O,  beautiful  one; 

Thou  straycst  o'er  hill-top  and  mountain, 
And  sinilc-t  in  rain  and  in  sun. 

Bright  chains  that  dark  time  may  not  sever 
Shall  hold  us  in  thrall  by  thy  side; 

We  will  cling  to  thcc,  love  thcc  forever, 
O,  garland-crowned,  beautiful  br; 

***** 

O  heart  that  is  throbbing  and  leaping, 
As  swells  the  wild  pulse  of  the 

Remember  the  Past  that  is  sleep 
'Mid  dreams  of  the  Future  to  be  ! 


Song.  247 


'Mid  offerings  sweet  of  thanksgiving, 
Give  sighs  for  the  days  that  arc  fled ; 

Give  songs  to  the  bride  that  is  living, 
Give  tears  to  the  love  that  is  dead. 


SONG. 


Soul  of  the  south  wind  sighing 
Over  the  red  rose  dying, 
O'er  the  pale  petals  lying, 

Why  dost  thou  grieve,  and-  cling 
Unto  the  bare  boughs  shaken, 
Moaning  like  heart  forsaken 
Never  again  to  waken 

In  the  bright  flush  of  Sprinp  ? 


.-> 


Other  sweet  queens  shall  woo  thee, 
Other  red  lips  shall  sue  thcc, 
Other  fond  brides  come  to  thce 

With  their  bright  smiles  to  bless  ; 
Love,  her  soft  charms  surrender, 
May,  with  her  rose-buds  tender, 
June,  with  her  flush  of  splendor 

Yield  to  thy  fond  caress. 

Cease  thy  sad,  wailing  number, 
Haunting  no  more  her  slumber, 
Sorrows  no  more  encumber — 

Mcm'ries  thy  bosom  heave ; 
Dreamless  thy  love  is  sleeping, 
Stars  their  bright  watch  are  keeping, 
Break  not  her  rest  with  weeping, 

Cease  o'er  thy  dead  to  grieve. 


248  The  Death  of  Samson. 


THE  DEATH  OF  SAMSON. 

Glad  floats  the  sound  of  mirth  and  song 

O'er  Ga/.a's  festive  scenes, 
Around  the  sightless  giant,  throng 

The  scoffing  Philistines 
To  taunt  him  with  their  triumph  vain, 
Nor  dream  his  strength  may  come  again. 

To  Dagon's  praise  their  anthems  peal — 
Their  songs  of  triumph,  hark  ! 

His  hands  the  firm  foundations  feel, 
Slow  groping  in  the  dark; 
:nile  of  triumph  lights  his  face, 

His  arms,  the  pillars  firm  embrace. 

Slow  heaves  his  brawny,  swelling  chest,   . 

Unvcxcd  by  bond  or  cord; 
And  deep  within  his  troubled  breast, 

The  spirit  of  the  Lord 
Stirs  like  a  mighty  earthquake  throe. 
ath  and  overthrow. 


*e> 


iddcn  cra-h  of  reeling  walls 

Upon  the  stillness  broke  ; 
Such  swift  and  sudden  crash  as  falls 

When  lightnings  rend  the  oak — 
Arch,  pillar,  hall  and  battlement, 
In  one  promiscuous  rum  blent. 

The  sounds  of  tumult  pass  away, 

As  lull  the  raging  s, 
Calm,  still  and  terrible  he  lay 

Amid  his  enemies — 
Gone  as  the  might}'  whirlwind's  breath, 
Triumphant  stiil,  and  strong  in  death. 


Poem.  249 


POEM. 


[Written  for  the  Los  Angeles  Celebration  of  the  Anniversary  of 
Independence — July  4,   1875.] 


Once  more  we  come  with  song  and  cheer, 

And  bugle-call  and  roll  of  drum, 
To  honor  all  our  hearts  hold  dear, 

And  sing  the  years  to  come. 
Once  more  we  stand  beneath  the  fold 

Of  Freedom's  banner,  wide  unfurled, 
As  stood  our  sires  in  days  of  old 

Against  a  frowning  world. 

Forever,  Freedom's  emblem  meet 

To  guard  each  freeman's  home,  or  grave, 
In  Summer's  peace,  or  war's  fierce  sleet 

O,  sacred  banner  wave! 
Thy  stars  shall  shine  o'er  hill  and  plain — • 

In  glory  blaze  o'er  land  and  sea, 
To  rend  oppression's  galling  chain, 

O,  emblem  of  the  free; 
To  guard  the  right,  the  wrong  defy, 
This,  this  shall  be  thy  mission  high. 

Still  sacred  to  the  sons,  as  sires, 

Shall  be  the  boon  thy  memory  holds; 
To  kindle  fresh  the  patriot  fires, 

Still  be  thy  starry  folds 
In  peerless  majesty  unfurled, 
The  star  of  hope  to  all  the  world. 
Still  as  the  cycling  years  go  round, 
The  prostrate  nations,  firmly  bound 
By  tyrant's  chains  in  foreign  lands, 
Shall  lift  to  thec  imploring  hands; 
And  tearful  eyes  beyond  the  sea 
Shall  turn  to  thec,  shall  turn  to  thce. 


250  Poem. 

What  though  va^t  oceans  roll  between, 
And  trackless  deM-rts  intervene, 
Still  turns  the  patriot's  ardent  soul, 
As  turns  the  needle  to  the  pole, 
Unto  thy  true  and  steadfast  blaze 
To  guide  his  path  in  lonely  ways. 
From  foreign  lands  the  wanderer  turns 
To  where  thy  constellation  burns 
In  distant  lands  o'er  ocean  wide, 
As  turns  the  bridegroom  to  the  bride, 
And  clasps  thy  folds  in  rapture  wild, 
As  the  fond  mother  clasps  her  child. 

O,  brethren,  on  this  hallowed  day, 

Put,  put  contention  far  away! 

May  charity  and  love  impart 

Their  healing  balm,  and  on  each  heart 

Fall  like  the  gentle  dews  of  heaven, 

Forgetting  all,  all,  all  forgiven. 

The  spirits  of  the  mighty  dead 
Rise  up,  and  rend  their  gory  shrouds,    . 
They  hover  'round  like  shadowy  clouds, 

Wiu.n  day's  bright  beams  are  lied. 
From  Lexington  and  Concord's  greens, 

n  Jiunker's  blood-stained  glorious  height, 
:n  JJrandy  wine's  dark  field  of  night, 
From  deathless  New  Orleans, 

From  YorkUnvn's  trenches,  moss  o'crgrown, 
From  .-acred  Vernon's  hallowed  gloom. 
From  every  martyr-hero's  tomb, 

Fn»:  -  forgotten,  lone; 

From  Saratoga's  bloody  plain, 

From  Carolina's  moain 1 1     pin     , 

From  sail  Savannah's  fatal  lines, 
Tiny  ay  l  tin. 

\\  e  hear  their  voices  in  the  air, 
We  see  their  footprints  in  the  sand, 
They  call  to  us  on  every  hand 

In  hollow  tones,  "  He  ware!" 


Poem.  251 

Immortal  heroes,  past  and  gone, 
In  glory's  blaze,  sleep  on!  sleep  on! 
No  tyrant  foe  in  hate  and  lust 
Shall  trample  on  your  sacred  dust, 
Nor  yet  your  children  voiceless  hear 
Your  memories  taunted  with  a  sneer; 
Nor  see  your  trust  and  honor  sold 
For  base,  accurs'd,  barbaric  gold. 
The  heritage  by  father  won 
Shall  still  be  guarded  by  the  son ; 
And  worthy  sons  of  worthy  sires 
Shall  kindle  sacred  Freedom's  fires ; 
Still  shall  your  children  guard  the  dust 
Bequeathed  to  them  in  holy  trust, 
And  tread  the  path  their  fathers  trod— 
The  path  to  glory  and  to  God. 

Let  no  vain,  despot's  alien  hand 
Seek  to  enchain  our  glorious  land! 
Let  but  great  Freedom's  tocsin  ring, 
And  forth  her  brave  defenders  spring 
From  every  city  by  the  main, 
From  every  hamlet  on  the  plain, 
From  all  our  hills  of  wind-swept  pines, 
From  deepest  depths  of  lonely  mines, 
In  dazzling  lines  of  flashing  stcc! — 
Lo!  God  hath  set  great  Freedom's  seal 
On  every  mountain,  plain,  and  lake, 
And  who  that  mighty  seal  shall  break  ? 

Oh,  softer  far  than  Grecian  skies, 

Our  own  bright,  bending  skies  of  blue; 
And  glorious  as  the  Tynan  dyes 

Our  crimson  sunset's  gorgeous  hue. 
To  dream  amid  clysian  bowers, 

To  drink  the  murmurous  song  of  bees, 

To  rest  beneath  our  own  green  trees, 
In  Heaven's  own  smile — such  gifts  are  ours. 


252  Poem. 

Away,  forebodings  weak,  away! 

Let  no  dark  clouds  obscure  this  day! 
A  band  of  brothers,  lo!  we  stand 
In  firm,  united  phalanx  grand; 

Invincible  from  shore  to  shore, 

One,  undivided  evermore. 

O,  banner  of  the  brave  and  free, 
May  honor's  gleam  still  cling  to  thcc; 
May  no  dark  blot  of  damning  hue 
E'er  stain  thy  deep  cerulean  blue; 
May  trustful  eyes  still  turn  to  thce, 
And  in  the  wrath  of  days  to  be, 
Amid  the  wreck  of  pomp  and  lust, 
\Vhcn  thrones  are  trampled  into  dust, 
May  each  bright,  glorious,  gleaming  star 
Of  God's  own  setting,  still  be  there! 

\Yc  come  again,  a  people  free, 

With  hearts  to  holy  Freedom  true; 
O,  glorious  banner,  unto  thce 

Our  oath,  we  here  renew! 
O,  idol  of  our  hearts'  desires! 
O,  sacred  symbol  of  our  sires, 

Triumphant  still,  through  doubts  and  fears, 

O,  thrice  baptized  in  blood  and  tears; 
\Vhilc  planets  blaze  or  ocean  rolls 

To  lave  and  kiss  our  saercd  shore 
To  guard  thcc  with  our  lives  and  souls, 

To  keep  thcc  pure  forcvcrmorc — 
Whatever  freemen  yet  have  done, 

Or  patriots  still  may  do  or  dare, 
Ik-re  in  the  sight  of  Freedom's  sun, 

With  bended  heads,  all  reverent,  bare, 
•icath  thy  folds,  we  swear!   we  swear! 


Mutations.  253 

MUTATIONS. 


I  looked  on  life — a  glorious  plain  outspread — 
The  winds  blew  soft,  the  blue  sky  overhead ; 
Calm  slept  the  seas;  "How  sweet  to  live/'  I  said. 

A  trembling  glory  on  earth's  bosom  lay ; 
The  sweet  birds  caroled  at  the  break  of  day, 
And  dewdrops  blazed  on  every  trembling  spray. 

Forth  went  the  toiler  to  his  labor  strong; 
In  the  hushed  air  of  rapture  lingered  long 
The  glad,  sweet  echo  of  the  sower's  song. 

The  smiling  landscape  flushed  like  bride  bedecked, 
The  crystal  founts,  the  dreamy  skies  reflect; 
I  walked  the  earth,  with  lordly  head  erect 

A  change  came  o'er  life's  gorgeous,  glittering  dream ; 
Afar  through  space,  the  lurid  lightnings  gleam; 
A  trembling  terror  broods  o'er  plain  and  stream. 

Deceitful  earth's  false,  treacherous  truce  was  o'er; 
The  raging  seas  rushed  on  the  shrieking  shore ; 
Hope's  magic,  siren  song  was  heard  no  more. 

Dread  thunders  rent  the  welkin  through  and  through; 
Storm  after  storm  swept  o'er  the  smiling  blue;' 
Fled,  song  and  flush,  and  blaze  of  sparkling  dew. 

I  saw  the  tares  the  weary  sowers  reap, 

Saw  Hope's  sweet  flowers  crushed  by  the  tempests  sweep 

And  said,  "Oh,  death,  how  sweet  thy  dreamless  sleep ! 

"How  vain,  O,  man,  thy  spirit's  worldly  lust ! 
How  vain,  O,  soul,  thy  earthly  hopes  and  trust!" 
And  bowed  my  humbled  head  low  in  the  dust. 


254  Sfringfhnc. 

SPRINGTIME, 


Only  the  thrice-told,  old,  old  story; 

Springtime  wakening  of  birds  and  flowers; 
Forests  aflame  with  red-bud  glory, 

April  sunshine,  and  clouds  and  showers. 

Sunrise  glory  and  dewdrop  glitter, 

Sparkling  meadows,  and  glistening  leaves, 

Skylark  trilling,  and  swallow  twitter, 

Telling  their  loves  'ncath  the  listening  caves. 

Zephyrs  winging  with  fragrance  laden, 
Kissing  each  trembling  leaf  and  flower, 

Softly  as  sighing  of  tender  maiden, 

Dreaming  soft  in  her  rose- wreathed  bower. 

Valleys  ablaze  with  bluebell  splendor 

Under  the  arch  of  the  soft,  blue  skies, 
South  winds  kissing  the  rose-bud  tender, 
Dreamy   sunsets   and  love-lit  eyes. 

Crimson  sunsets  and  deepening  shadows, 
Lonely  crickets  that  chirp  and  grieve; 

\Vhi-pering  zephyrs  and  sleeping  meadows, 
Solemn  twilight  and  hush  of  eve. 

• 

1  lands  that  sweet  nothings  idly  fashion, 
Glances  tender,  of  love  begot; 

that  tell  of  the  soul's  deep  passion, 
Lips  that  tremble,  but  speak  it  not. 

Only  a  glimpse  of  Eden  glories — 

Flowers  unfathered,  and  fruits  of  gold; 

Only  one  of  the  heart's  sweet  stories, 

Dreamed,  and  treasured,  and  never  told. 


Woe!    Woe!    Woe!  255 

Only  Life's  morn,  swift  clouds  o'crshading, 
April  skies  with  their  smiles  and  tears; 

Only  a  vision  of  dreamland,  fading 

Dim  down  the  vista  of  darkening  years. 


*WOE!   WOE!   WOE! 


Woe !  woe  to  the  earth,  with  her  changeful  mutations, 
When  the  footsteps  of  God  swiftly  fall  in  His  path, 

To  trample  the  blood  of  the  proud,  purple  nations 
Like  wine  from  the  press  of  Omnipotent  wrath. 

He  cometh  in  anger  and  gocth  in  scorning, 

And  leaveth  the  whirlwind  and  earthquake  behind, 

Lo!  the  splendor  of  man  is  as  mist  of  the  morning, 
And  his  glory  and  strength  but  as  chaff  in  the  wind. 

% 
Woe !  woe  to  the  land  of  the  cypress  and  myrtle, 

Awakened  from  love-thralling  languor's  soft  dream, 
When  the  nightingale's  trill  and  the  song  of  the  turtle 
Shall  change  to  the  thrill  of  the  eagle's  fierce  scream. 

In  the  East,  like  a  phantom,  dark-looming  to  frighten, 
Comes  the  Angel  of  Death  with  his  shadowy  wings ; 

Earth's  vales  with  the  bones  of  her  children  shall  whiten, 
And  vultures  shall  gorge  on  the  flesh  of  her  kings. 

Woe  !  woe  to  the  land  of  the  prophet  and  dreamer, 
Eor  the  proud  sword  of  Osman  is  rusted  and  dull, 

When  the  cross  gleams  triumphant  from  pennon  and  streamer, 
And  trumpets  peal  fierce  in  the  gardens  of  Gul. 

*  Written  upon  the  march  of  the  Russian*to  the  Danube. 


256  The  Terror  of  the  Seas. 


THE  TERROR  OF  THE  SEAS. 

Long  the  skies,  at  midnight,  redly 
Flushed  in  earth's  remote  degrees; 

Long  a  phantom,  swift  and  deadly, 
Scourged  with  flame  the  peaceful  seas. 

O'er  the  trackless  ocean  flying, 
Like  a  comet,  swift  she  came; 

In  her  path  were  wrath  and  ruin, 
In  her  wake  were  wreck  and  flame. 

Faces  bronzed  grew  cold  and  clammy, 
Sank  the  pulses  of  the  strong, 

When  in  whispers  "Alabama," 
Crept  the  midnight  watch  along. 

Kvc-r  at  her  ghastly  ncaring, 

Quivered  all  the  air  with  sighs, 
As  a  phantom  disappearing 

the  glare  of  lurid  skic-s. 


Long  the  hunters  of  the  ocean 
Swept  in  vain,  the  watery  space, 

O'er  the  billows'  wild  commotion, 
Following  still  her  deadly  trace. 

Like  the  Indian  leopard,  hated, 

Long  she  prowled  with  deadly  glare, 

Till  at  last  with  carnage  sated, 
Homeward  came  she  to  her  lair. 

Like  the  cruel,  crafty  leopard, 
Came  she  slyly  stealing  back  ; 

Like  the  stern,  avenging  hunter, 
Came  the  Kcarsargc  on  her  track. 


TJie   Terror  of  the  Seas.  257 

Then,  at  last  on  her  pursuer, 

Like  some  crouching-  beast  of  prey, 
Fiercely  turned  the  evil-doer, 

Hemmed  at  last  and  brought  to  bay. 

Rent  were  bars  and  bolts  asunder, 

As  the  earthquake-riven  rock; 
Belched  the  cannon's  volleyed  thunder, 

Through  the  reeling  battle  shock, 

Till  at  last,  'mid  din  and  roaring, 

Rushing  through  her  shivered  side, 
Down  her  blood-stained  hold,  swift  pouring, 

Swept  the  fierce,  resistless  tide. 

Mute,  imploring,  gazing  over, 

Trembling  France,  in  terror  saw  ; 
And  the  white-faced  cliffs  of  Dover 

Pallid  stood  in  fear  and  awe. 

Died  the  echoes,  faint  and  lowly 
Of  the  cannon  on  the  breeze; 
Grimly,  surely,  slowly,  slowly, 

Sank  "  The  Terror  of  the  Seas." 
****** 

Still  the  white-lipped  cliffs  of  Dover 

Lean  above  the  sounding  deeps; 
And  the  white-winged  ships  flit  over, 

Where  the  buried  phantom  sleeps. 

Nevermore  her  flag  defiant, 

Proud,  shall  flaunt  the  channel  breeze; 
Nevermore  shall  flaming  commerce 

Light  her  path  along  the  seas. 

But  the  waves  shall  chant  their  numbers, 

Sadly,  solemn,  overhead; 
And  her  buried  sailors  slumber 

Till  the  seas  give  up  their  dead. 


258  Song  of  the    Winds. 

SONG  OF  THE  WINDS. 


Over  hill  and  mountain  leaping, 
Over  rill  and  fountain  creeping, 
Wandering  still  when  flowers  are  sleeping, 

Calling  to  the  stars  in  glee; 
Tyrant  man  may  never  chain  us, 
Walls  nor  dungeon  bars  retain  us, 
Crime  nor  bloodshed  ever  stain  us— 

Pure  and  Stainless  still  are  we. 

O'er  the  couch  of  loved  ones  dying, 
O'er  the  graves  of  lost  ones  sighing. 
Where  fond  hopes  arc  quenched  and  lying, 

Sighing  sadly  still  go  we ; 
Over  town  and  sleeping  city, 
Over  homeless  ones  in  pity, 
Singing  still  our  mournful  ditty, 

Restless  ever,  still  we  flee. 

Through  dim  caverns,  echo-haunted, 
O'er  red  battle-fields  undaunted, 
O'er  pale  squadrons,  banner-flaunted, 

Cold,  where  life  hath  ceased  to  be; 
Over  land  and  over  ocean, 
Where  the  billows,  in  commotion, 
r  heave  in  wild  emotion, 

Singing  ever,  still  go  we. 

All  unseen,  as  our  Great  Giver. 

ding  over  lake  and  river, 
Where  the  sighing  aspens  quiver. 

Tripping  softly  o'er  the  1 
Llkfi  a  spirit  gently  win  — 
O'er  the  flowers  whcu-  bee--,  arc  clinging, 
Life  to  fevered  nature  bringing, 

Ministe  rK  we, 


Stand  by  tJie  President.  259 

STAND  BY  THE  PRESIDENT.* 


Stand  by  the  President,  men  of  the  North  ! 

Stand  as  he  stood  'mid  the  battle's  dread  thunder, 
When  in  the  batteries'  flame  belching  forth, 

Squadron  and  column  were  riven  asunder. 
Stand 'as  he  stood,  through  the  battles'  fierce  hailing; 

Firm  as  the  oak  'mid  the  wild,  pelting  rain ; 
Stand  as  the  rocks  stand,  when  mad  waves  assailing, 

Break  their  prcud  strength  and  their  fury  in  vain. 

Stand  by  the  President,  men  of  the  West ! 

Pure  and  unselfish,  and  firm  is  his  soul; 
Steadfast  and  true  to  his  country's  behest, 

True  as  the  needle  that  points  to  the  Pole. 
In  the  red  flame  of  the  battle's  fierce  action, 

He  was  your  bravest,  and  truest,  and  best; 
Scorning  the  schemes  and  the  hatreds  of  faction — 

Stand  by  your  President,  men  of  the  West ! 

Stand  by  the  President,  men  of  the  East ! 

Firm  as  the  pines  of  your  forests  of  Maine; 
Stand  as  he  stood  till  the  battle-storm  ceased, 

Pelting  no  more  with  its  pitiless  rain. 
Firm,  side  by  side  with  your  heroes  of  might, 

Stood  he  in  line  till  the  armies  of  Gray 
Vanished  and  passed  as  the  shadows  of  night —  . 

Melted  as  snows  in  the  Springtime  away. 

Stand  by  the  President,  men  of  the  South ! 

Level  and  steady  and  true  be  your  aim  ; 
Stand  as  ye  stood  when  the  cannon's  deep  mouth 

Belched  in  your  faces  its  thunder  and  flame. 
Bright  in  the  flush  of  young  Freedom's  sweet  morning, 

Bury  forever  all  hatreds  and  fears, 
Counsels  of  evil  and  wrathfulncss  scorning, 

Bury  the  Past,  with  its  blood  and  its  tears. 

*  Written  upon  occasion  of  the  inauguration  of  President  Hayes. 


260  Ycarmng. 

Proud  in  Hope's  consciousness,  peerless  in  beauty, 
Calm  in  your  majesty,  firm  in  your  might, 

Stand  as  your  Washington,  steadfast  to  duty- 
Stand  by  the  President!  stand  by  the  right! 

Stand  by  the  President,  soldiers  and  seamen! 

Fixed  is  his  soul  as  the  Polar  Star  true; 
Stand  by  the  President,  patriots  and  freemen, 

Under  the  flag  of  the  star-blazoned  blue. 
Rally  men,  rally,  from  mountain  and  valley! 

Come  as  the  seas  come  to  welcome  the  storm ; 
Form  as  the  squares  form  to  break  the  mad  sally, 

Under  the  starry  flag,  patriots,  form! 

So  shall  rapt  History  tell  our  proud  story, 

Blazoned  and  shining  with  Freedom's  bright  glow; 
Tell  how  we  stood  in  our  strength  and  our  glory, 

One,  undivided,  for  weal  and  for  woe; 
One  in  the  throb  of  our  high  aspirations, 

One  from  the  seas  to  the  tall  mountain  bars, 
Freest  of  peoples,  and  grandest  of  nations, 

Under  the  gleaming  and  glint  of  the  stars. 


YEARNING 

Earth  so  lone  and  wide, 

Spreading  far  and  grand, 
Dost  thou  never  hide 

In  some  tropic  land 
Far  from  can:  apart, 

Some  blest  Eden  set, 
Where  the  weary  heart 

Resting,  may  for 
i  thy  dim  confines, 

,t  thy  hidden  Pole, 
Where  love  ever  shims 

On  tin-  \vurning  soul  ? 


Yearning:  261 

Sea,  O,  mystic  sea ! 

Spreading  vague  and  vast, 
Like  Eternity 

O'er  the  perished  Past, 
Hast  thou  not  some  isle — • 

Some  lone,  blissful  spot, 
Where  deceit  and  guile 

Come  and  enter  not — 
Some  bright  coral  gem, 

Gleaming  soft,  serene, 
Like  some  diadem 

Crowning  Beauty's  queen  ? 

Skies  of  deepest  blue 

That  the  mountains  kiss, 
Tinting  with  thy  hue 

Space's  dread  abyss, 
Stars  that  gem  the  zone 

Of  the  Milky  Way, 
Gleaming  far  and  lone 

With  eternal  ray, 
Know  ye  not  some  place — 

Free  from  care's  alloy, 
Where  no  sorrow's  trace 

Ever  blends  with  joy  ? 

Vainly  still  we  ask — 

Vainly  we  implore; 
Lifts  the  mocking  mask 

For  us  nevermore. 
Peace,  O,  spirit  keep  ! 

Earth,  and  sea,  and  sky, 
To  thy  yearning  deep, 

May  not  give  reply, 
Not  till  earth  shall  pale, 

Not  till  life  shall  flee, 
Shall  the  mystic  veil 

Lift  its  pall  for  thee ! 


262  Phantoms. 


PHANTOM  S. 


Life  is  hut  seeming, 

Sleeping  or  dreaming, 

Chasing  bright  phantoms  afar  and  near; 

ling  ami  flying, 

Sobbing  and  sighing, 
Grasping  at  shadows  that  disappear. 

Thirsting  for  glory, 

Still  the  sad  story; 
Chasing  a  mirage  o'er  burning  sands ; 

Lone  and  forsaken, 

Dream  and  awaken — 
Waken  to  die  in  the  desert  lands. 

Glory  up-sp:- 

le  notes  ringing, 
Staitling  the  world  with  his  trump  of  Fame 

Dazzling  and  flushing, 

Onward  goes  rushing, 
Lighting  the  gloom  with  his  meteor  flame. 

Sudden  appearing, 

Madly  careering — 
Flashing  like  comet  o'er  midnight  skies; 

Fleeting  and  ll\ 

Fading  and  dyi 
(lone,  as  the  rainbow  disM.ivr-  and  dies. 

Such  is  Life's  doing, 

Shad-  >\vs  pursuing — 
Chasing  the  phantoms  that  lure  us  on; 

Plotting  and  scheming, 

Sighing  and  dreaming— 
Dreaming,  to  wake  in  the  cold,  gray  dawn. 


Shadows.  263 


Yet  but  a  little, 
Fickle  and  brittle — 

Life  yielded  up  with  a  moan  and  sigh ; 
Gleaming  and  shading, 
Flushing  and  fading — 

Fading  as  glory  of  sunset  sky. 


SHADOWS. 


We  are  as  the  flitting  shadows, 
Fleeting,  floating  o'er  the  meadows, 
As  the  tears  of  weeping  widows; 
Transient  as  the  zephyr's  sigh, 
When  the  moon  is  on  the  billow, 
Wandering  through  the  weeping  willow, 
Sighing  'round  our  sleeping  pillow- 
Sighing,  moaning,  passing  by. 

We  arc  as  the  waters  gliding, 
Oft  cohering,  oft  dividing, 
Madly  rushing,  meekly  hiding, 

Hurried  onward,  quick  and  fast; 
As  the  ripple  on  the  river, 
But  a  startle  and  a  quiver, 
But  a  tremble  and  a  shiver, 

And  Life's  Rubicon  is  passed. 

Onward,  downward,  deathward  carried, 
To  the  awful  cataract  hurried, 
Where  our  puny  bark  is  buried 

In  Death's  whirlpool,  dark  and  vast; 
As  the  thistle  o'er  the  heather 
Swept  in  dark  tempestuous  weather; 
As  the  unresisting  feather 

On  Niagara's  bosom  cast. 


264  A   Centennial  Hymn. 


A  CENTKNMAL   HYMN.— 1876. 

Great  King  of  every  zone! 
Before  Thine  awful  throne 

We  bow  to  Thee! 
Kingdoms  and  empires  grand, 
Before  Thy  dread  command, 
Arc  humbled  in  the  sand, 

And  cease  to  be. 

Ruler  of  earth  and  air, 
Our  mighty  Nation  spare — 

Thy  people  keep! 
Still  float  our  banner  o'er 
The  land  from  shore  to  shore, 
Till  Time  shall  be  no  more, 

And  ages  sleep. 

Let  thundering  echoes  wake 
The  land  from  sea  to  lake, 

In  triumph  long; 
As  brothers  let  us  stand 
United,  heart  and  hand, 
And  shout  in  chorus  grand, 

Great  Freedom's  song. 

And  onward  to  the  last, 
The  glorious  cycle  past 

Points  still  tin-  way, 
Till  shades  from  earth  shall  flee, 
And  Freedom's  blaze  shall  be 
'J  IIP  .11  ,h  all  eternity, 

lit  day. 


Dreamings.  265 

Our  Father,  hear  our  prayer, 
Keep  us  within  Thy  care, 

We  here  implore! 
Keep  us  in  wisdom's  ways 
Through  all  the  coming  days, 
And  Thine  shall  be  the  praise 

Forevermore. 


DREAMINGS. 


O'er  Life's  bright  tide,  in  youth  we  fondly  lean, 
As  hand  in  hand  we  stand  beside  the  stream, 

And  gaze  into  its  mirrored  depths  serene, 

Where  bright  skies  are  reflected — and  we  dream. 

Such  dreams,  as  we  may  never  dream  again ; 

Awhile  fond  hope  unto  their  memory  clings, 
Then  fades  as  rainbow  splendors  ;  weak  and  vain 

As  foolish  woman's  fond  imaginings. 

We  dream  of  glory,  and  the  purple  skies 
Are  rainbow-tinted  at  Life's  opening  dawn ; 

But  evening  comes,  and  clouds  and  storms  arise, 
And  all  the  flush  and  splendor  fled  and  gone. 

We  dream  of  wealth  and  riches — old  and  stale 
We  grasp  the  meanest,  lowest  things  of  earth  ; 

WTe  dream  of  love,  and  ashes  cold  and  pale 
Lie  coldly  on  the  dark,  deserted  hearth. 

And  this  is  all ;  and  this  is  human  life! — 
A  comet's  trail ;  a  meteor's  fitful  gleam ; 

A  thrice-told  tale  ;  a  never-ending  strife; 

And  Fame  is  naught ;  and  Life  is  but  a  dream. 


266  Donncr. 


DONNER. 


O'er  weary  wastes  of  desert  sands, 
Toward  the  distant  sunset  lands, 
A  wayworn  band  of  pilgrims  slow, 
When  flushed  the  skies  with  crimson  glow, 
Came  where  bright  Truckcc  joyous  leaps 
From  placid  Donner's  crystal  deeps, 
With  throb  and  gush  in  sparkling  stream, 
As  pure  and  bright  as  Love's  young  dream. 

Across  their  pathway  gleaming  white, 
Uprose  the  mighty  mountain  wall, 
So  lone,  so  stern,  so  grand,  so  tall, 

The  summit  pierced  the  vault  of  night; 

The  long,  long  trail  of  starry  light 
Clung  closely  to  the 'mighty  bars, 
A  pathway  for  the  dizzy  stars, 

Along  that  awful  mountain  height 

O,  mountains,  towering  proud  and  free  ! 

Of  strength,  that  ne'er  shall  pass  away 
But  with  Time's  throes,  meet  emblems  ye  ! 

And  man,  of  weakness  and  decay! 
The  Storm- King  comes  in  wrath  and  might, 

In -awful  grandeur  dark  and  slow, 
And  curtains  with  his  clouds  of  n 

L.ich  kingly  he, id  and  crown  of  snow. 

The  thunders  crash,  the  lightnings  glare, 

The  earthquake  tremors,  throb  and  thrill — 
The  .storms  are  hushed;  lo  !  ye  are  there, 

Calm,  cold  and  white,  eternal  still ! 
Who  hath  not  gazed  thy  grandeur  o'er, 

In  the  still  watches  of  the  night, 
And  felt  his  own  weak  spirit 

Above  that  mystic,  gleaming  height — 


Donncr.  267 

In  fancy  trod  that  gleaming  trail 

That  spans  far  space's  boundless  seas, 
And  longed  to  pierce  the  starry  veil 

That  shrouds  the  heavenly  mysteries  ? 

Oh,  weak  and  vain  !  we  may  not  scan 

The  precincts  of  God's  holy  place ; 
Nor  is  it  given  to  puny  man 

His  hidden  mysteries  to  trace. 
We  ceaseless  toil  and  fondly  strive 

To  leave  our  impress  on  some  spot — 
Time's  swelling  seas  resistless  drive, 

The  tide  sweeps  on,  and  we  are  not — 
For  one  brief  moment,  hope  and  fear, 

And  trace  faint  lines  with  trembling  hands, 
Then  pass  away,  and  disappear 

As  figures  traced  on  wave-washed  strands. 
Like  fleeting  shadows  o'er  the  dell, 

We  hurry  onward  thick  and  fast ; 
The  mountains  stand  immovable, 

And  they  shall  be,  when  we  have  passed ; 
But  to  lost,  weary,  wandering  feet, 

Their  moonlit  gleam,  or  noonday  glare, 
In  place  of  longing,  high  and  sweet, 

Brings  but  deep  horror  and  despair. 
Yet  hearts  beat  high  and  strong  that  night- 
To-morrow  they  would  scale  the  pass, 
And  sleep  was  sweet,  and  dreams  were  bright, 

Soon,  soon  to  fade  away,  alas  ! 

The  morning  sun  had  bathed  with  gold 

The  long  Sierra's  glittering  span, 
As  struggling  upward,  slowly  rolled 

The  vanguard  of  that  caravan, 
WTith  many  a  blow,  and  yell,  and  shout, 

Up  through  the  sun's  fierce,  scorching  glare ; 


268  Donncr. 

And  household  goods  lay  strewn  about, 
And  wrecks  of  wagons  here  and  there; 

And  here  and  there  some  famished  brute 
Fell  prone  with  eyeballs  glaring  wide, 

Then  cast  one  wistful  look  of  mute 
Despair  upon  his  mates  and  died. 

Far,  far  above  that  dizzy  place, 

The  granite  ledges,  stern  and  gray, 
Rose  sheer  and  steep  with  frowning  face — 

A  moveless  wall  across  their  way; 
And  fa/  beyond,  uplifting  high, 

Bathed  in  the  sunset's  crimson  glow, 
Rose  giants  through  the  trembling  sky, 

Wrapped  in  their  wintry  cloaks  of  snow. 
Like  broken  squadrons  from  the  ficldv 

Hurled  backward  by  the  battle  shock, 
Those  men  of  iron  slowly  yield 

Before  that  sullen  face  of  rock. 
Vet  'mid  that  awful  solitude, 

Went  up  no  weak  rcpinings  vain; 
And  sleep  brought  hope  and  strength  renewed 

For  effort,  still  to  rend  that  chain. 

All  jaded,  worn,  day  after  day 

They  fruitless  toil,  'mid  hopes  and  fears, 
And  vainly  strive  to  force  their  v 

Through  Nature's  fortress  barriers. 
Like  hope  forlorn,  assail  the  pass, 

But  still  before  them  interpose — 
Like  battle-marshaled  ranks,  alas  ! — 

Rocks  piled  on  rocks,  and  snows  on  snows. 

Yet  still  did  1 1<  ^'t  tendrils  cling 

Around  their  hearts  in  that  dark  hour; 

And  they  would  wait  for  gentle  Spring 
To  free  them  with  her  magic  power; 


Donner.  269 

And  snows  would  melt,  and  aid  would  come, 

And  storms  and  shadows  soon  would  flee, 
And  they  would  find  sweet  rest,  and  home, 

Beside  the  boundless  Western  Sea. 
And  weeping  women  dried  their  tears, 

And  hearts  of  sorrow  ceased  to  ache; 
They  gathered  up  their  scattered  wares, 

And  reared  rude  cabins  by  the  lake. 


But  lo!   the  sky  is  overcast, 
And  filmy  shadows  gather  fast, 
And  drift  about  in  sad  unrest, 
Around  the  mountain's  lofty  crest; 
Then  merging  slowly  into  one 
Vast  shadowy  veil,  obscure  the  sun; 
The  leaden  sky  like  funeral  pall, 
Hangs  close  and  heavy  over  all, 
And  silence  falls  so  dread  and  deep, 
That  nature  sinks  in  drowsy  sleep; 
And  stillness  utter,  awe  and  dread, 
Enthralls,  as  reigns  around  the  dead. 

Such  stillness  as  at  twilight  broods 

O'er  Luxor's  voiceless  solitudes; 

Such  silence  as  at  midnight  crawls 

Through  Herculaneum's  ghostly  halls, 

Where  smothered  centuries  buried,  sleep 

In  everlasting  silence  deep; 

Such  hush  as  'neath  the  Arctic  glow, 

Broods  o'er  Siberia's  wastes  of  snow; 

Such  silent,  chilling  sense  of  fear 

As  thrills  the  heart  when  death  is  near; 

As  the  lost  traveler  lone  appals — 
Such  thrilling  viewless  fear  as  falls, 
When  falls  the  lion's  noiseless  paw, 
A  silent  boding  sense  of  awe; 


270  Dinner. 

Such  awe  as  o'er  the  soul  holds  sway, 

When  spirits  part  from  earthly  clay; 

Such  awe  as  holds  the  world  in  thrall, 

When  Empires  totter  to  their  fall, 

As  thrilled  through  ^»ft  Italia's  coa 

When  Hannibal's  dark,  vengeful  hosts 

Hung  like  the  shadows  of  the  night 

Upon  the  wintry  Alpine  height, 

Then  swept  as  avalanche  below, 

While  nations  trembled  at  the  blow, 

And  Rome's  proud  Empire  rocked  and  reeled 

On  dread  Cannae's  crimson  field. 

1  low  still  it  is  !  No  zephyr  stirs 
The  leaflets  of  the  listening  firs; 
A  silence  broods  o'er  rock  and  rill, 
The  very  air  is  hushed  and  still; 
Still  as  when  stormy  columns' form ; 
The  stillness  that  precedes  the  storm. 
*  *  *  •  *  «  -.. 

It  came  at  last !  a  mournful  wail 
Swept  through  the  shuddering,  trembling  vale, 
And  shook  with  strange  and  mystic  signs 
The  fingers  of  the  sobbing  pines: 
The  wind  around  the  lake's  dark  hem, 
Wailed  like  some  low,  sad  requiem 
Hymned  o'er  the  clay  whence  Life  hath  fled, 
When  all  but  Faith  and  Hope  are  dead. 

Down  comes  the  snow;  the  smothering  clouds 
1  lang  low  and  white  like  ghostly  shrouds; 
And  still  and  white  as  novice*  gown, 
The  feathery  flakes  come  softly  down ; 
Soft  as  the  touch  of  infant  hand, 
Or  leopard  footfall  on  the  sand, 

ide  the  dreamless  sleeper's  bed, 
Where  Afric's  lonely  deserts  spread  ; 


Donne  r.  271 

And  Ethiopia's  dusk  and  gloom 
Still  curtain  round  the  traveler's  tomb ; 
And  thick  as  Persian  arrows  sped, 
When  Xerxes'  mighty  hosts  o'ersprcad 
Like  threatening  clouds,  the  land  and  sea, 
And  burst  on  doomed  Thermopylae. 

And  day  and  night,  and  night  and  day, 
Until  a  week  had  passed  away, 
The  fleecy  flakes  with  chilling  breath 
Fell  silent  as  the  steps  of  death. 

Snow,  snow  !  around,  above,  beneath ; 

It  wrapped  them  in  its  gteaming  shroud; 

The  sullen  gusts  blew  fierce  and  loud, 
And  chilled  them  with  their  bitter  breath. 

Fast  locked,  imprisoned ;  still  the  same, 

The  wretched,  weary  weeks  were  passed 
In  dreary  gloom,  and  famine  came 

And  stared  them  in  the  face  at  last. 
Deep  buried,  ghastly,  wan  they  lay, 

Cold,  shivering  in  their  wretched  pens, 
And  glared  like  hungry  beasts  of  prey, 

Within  their  subterranean  dens. 
Their  caverncd  eyes,  all  mournfully, 

A  wild,  weird,  wistful  longing  took 

Into  their  depths,*as  those  who  look 
On  dark  Futurity's  lone  sea. 

Strange  mystic  thoughts  that  come  and  flee, 
Like  lightning  on  their  souls  were  traced ; 
And  old,  old  pictures  long  effaced, 

They  saw  again  in  memory: 
Dim  scenes  and  places  long  forgot ; 

The  shady  grove;  the  winding  lane — 
Their  childhood's  home ;  that  cherished  spot 

That  they  might  never  sec  again. 


Donne r. 

They  heard  the  murmur  of  sweet  bees, 

They  saw  the  swift  Missouri's  gleam; 

Saw  Mississippi's  mighty  stream 
Rush  onward  toward  the  tropic  seas; 

The  glorious  prairies  of  the  West, 
They  saw  in  majesty  unroll, 
Wide-spreading  like  some  mystic  scroll 

By  God's  own  mighty  seal  impressed. 

They  saw  great  stars  at  evening  glow, 

They  heard  a  mother's  gentle  sigh; 
And  by  the  cradle,  trembling,  low, 

Her  sad,  sweet,  tender  lullaby. 
1 1  card  through  the  gloom  of  dewy  eve, 

From  out  the  thicket  dark  and  still, 
When  lonely  crickets  chirp  and  grieve, 

The  weird  song  of  the  whip-poor-will; 
Saw  with  sweet  childhood's  fond  desire, 

The  flitting  fire-fly's  lamp  illume 
With  ghastly  flash  of  fitful  fire 

The  trembling  twilight's  pensive  gloom; 
They  felt  within  home's  sacred  spot, 

A  loving  sister's  fond  caress; 
And  for  brief  space  almost  forgot 

Their  own  deep,  utter  wretchedness 

Who  hath  not  felt  the  magic  power 
To  human  souls  in  pity  lent 
In  danger  duse  and  imminent, 

1 1 <>pc  in  deep  Despair's  dark  hour? 
And  ny>tir  Hope  that  ever  springs 

Eternal  in  the  human  I>; 

Soared  once  again  on  plumaged  wings, 

They  sought  and  found  a  wretched  re^t. 
And  women  ceased  to  moan  and  weep, 
They  muttered  in  their  troubled  sleep — 


Donner.  273 

Those  hungry  figures  lean  and  gaunt; 

Their  dreams  were  of  bright  Summer  skies 

In  that  near  Western  Paradise — 
Then  woke  in  utter  woe  and  want. 

And  yet  that  land  so  near,  so  near 
Their  feet,  that  they  might  almost  hear, 
Amid  its  sweet  perpetual  Spring, 
The  mocking-bird  and  linnet  sing! 
A  few  brief  miles,  a  few  short  hours, 
And  they  might  rest  in  Summer  bowers ; 
A  few  white  miles,  and  that  was  all 
Between — but  ah  !  that  mountain  wall, 
Impenetrable  as  the  gate 
That  guards  the  mysteries  of  Fate. 

Ah  !  nevermore  in  Summer  bowers, 

Amid  the  fragrance  pure  and  sweet 
Of  bursting  buds  and  blooming  flowers, 

Shall  rest  their  weary  wayworn  feet. 
Like  sentinels  with  arms  at  rest, 

Tall  pinnacles  of  dazzling  white 

Flash  keen  as  flaming  swords  of  light, 
To  guard  the  Eden  of  the  West. 

Cold,  white,  magnificent  and  grand, 
Beyond  the  pen's  weak  eloquence 

To  tell,  their  glittering  summits  stand, 
As  crowded  camp  of  giant  tents. 

Between,  through  awful  rifts  of  snow, 
The  foaming  torrents  rage  and  dash, 
Then  sudden  leap  as  lightning  flash 

Down  to  the  yawning  depths  below, 

On  through  dark,  frowning  canyons  rent, 
Through  interposing  rocky  bars, 
Where  but  the  faint,  far,  trembling  stars 

Look  in  from  heaven's  high  firmament, 


274  Donncr. 

Till  from  stern  rocky  lips  between, 
Forth  issuing  like  some  fairy  dream, 
The  limpid  waters  Hash  and  gleam 
In  sparkling  gladn<  :  ilHnc; 

There  where  the  dimples  dance  and  quiver, 
The  drooping  vines  their  tendrils  lave, 
Till  mingling  with  Pacific's  wave, 

Their  mirror  gleam  is  lost  forever. 

And  they  might  win  that  land,  and  rest, 

Those  prisoned  watchers  pale  and  gaunt, 

And  find  release  from  cold  and  want 
In  that  fair  garden  of  the  \\ 

Soon  might  they  rest  where  roses  gleam — 
But  right  before  their  eyes  uprose, 

Impassable-  's  dark  stream, 

Steeps  piled  on  steeps  and  snows  on  snows; 

lit  after  night,  they  watched  the  bars 
Frown  coldly  down  with  sullen  face, 

And  saw  the  solemn  march  of  stars 
Sweep  on  through  boundless  fields  of  space: 

Day  after  day  would  slowly  crawl, 
And  watch  the  low,  declining  sun 

Sink  down  behind  that  mountain  wall, 
And  hope  for  aid,  when  hope  was  none. 

Like  prisoned  corpses  far  below, 

That  might  not  burst  their  coffin  lid, 
They  lay  in  gloomy  darkness  hid, 

Wrapped  in  their  winding  sheet  of  snow; 
There  day  by  day,  their  faces  blanch, 

And  that  deep  silence  was  unbrokc, 
Save  when  the  awful  avalanche 

With  thunder-voice  the  echoes  woke. 

Some  sadly  mused,  all  pinched  and  pale, 
On  prophecies  of  long  ago — 

Some  babbling,  weak,  old  woman's  talc, 
Told  by  the  Winter's  hearth-fire  glow 


Donner.  275 

When  lines  were  scanned  on  eager  hands 

By  curious  eyes,  and  fortunes  told — 
Of  lonely  camps  in  mountain  lands, 

'Mid  hunger,  wretchedness  and  cold; 
How  they  should  toil  in  vain  to  reach 

A  fairer  home  by  sea-beat  strands, 
And  leave  their  ghostly  bones  to  bleach, 

Unwept,  in  distant  lonely  lands. 
Some  dying,  dreamed  of  heavenly  crown — 

Forgetting  all  the  world  beside, 
In  that  dread  hour — and  some  sank  down 

With  curses  on  their  lips,  and  died ; 
And  some  like  famished  beasts  of  prey, 

With  wolfish  eyes  of  fiery  red, 

Glared  ravenously  on  the  dead, 
Then  each  on  each,  and  slunk  away. 
***** 

From  Sacramento's  Vale,  afar, 

Came  brothers  with  the  Spring's  first  breath; 
They  forced  the  rocky  gates  that  bar 

That  awful  charnel-house  of  death. 
Why  stand  those  bold,  strong,  bearded  men 

All  faint  and  trembling,  pale,  aghast  ? 
Why  shake  strong  forms  in  that  dark  den 

Like  quivering  aspens  in  the  blast  ? 
A  fearful  thing  in  human  guise 

That  seemed  to  shun  the  light  of  day, 

Before  them  crouched  like  beast  of  prey, 
Glared  fierce  with  murder-gleaming  eyes. 

Oh,  never  yet  God's  day  serene 

Hath  looked  upon  such  fearful  scene; 
His  hairy  jaws  all  smeared  with  blood 
Seemed  oped  to  rend  them  as  they  stood; 

Around  him  in  the  ghastly  light 
Lay  grinning  skeletons  with  eyes 


276  Remorse. 

Upturned  to  supplicate  the  skies; 
The  bleaching  bones  gleamed  bare  and  white. 

Brave  men  one  moment  gazed  in  dread, 
Then  turning  with  one  common  thought, 

From  that  soul-haunting  horror,  fled 
Forever  from  that  awful  spot. 

Stilled  are  the  ravings  of  despair, 
And  hushed  the  groans  of  misery; 

The  maniac  laugh,  the  ghastly  glare— 

The  shrieks  of  murder  in  the  air 

Have  passed  away  and  ceased  to  be. 

The  bloody  traces,  they  are  not; 

But  awe-struck  men  in  whispers  speak, 
The  trains  rush  by  with  sudden  shriek, 

As  fearful  of  that  ghastly  spot 


REMORSE. 


[ANTONY  AFTER  THE  RKVM..] 

What !   Has  it  come  to  this— 
That  I,  a  Roman,  lay  my  manhood  down- 
Fame,  Honor,  Empire,  Glory  and  Renown, 

For  a  false  siren's  kiss  ? 

Shall  they  still 

"For  royal  Egypt's  harlot's  treacherous  smile, 
Beside  the  sluggish,  serpent-haunted  Nile, 

He  threw  the  world  away? 

"That  fur  a  wanton's  lust, 
He  bartered  the  proud  birthright  of  the  brave 
To  do  her  bidding  like  a  eunuch-slave, 

Low  groveling  in  the  du-t  Y 


Remorse.  277 

Gods  !  Is  it  even  so — 

Contempt  and  scorn  from  those  that  loved  me  best! 
In  Rome's  proud  halls  my  very  name  a  jest — 

That  I  have  sunk  so  low ! 

So  weak  !  so  lost !  so  vile  ! 
To  dangle  in  a  foreign  woman's  train, 
To  feed  her  fickle,  foolish  fancies  vain, 

And  wait  her  faithless  smile, 

While  my  tried  legions  chafe 
Beneath  the  taunts  and  insults  of  my  foes, 
While  I,  in  dreamy  indolence,  repose 

In  Love's  soft  dalliance  safe ! 

To  dally  and  to  feast, 
And  with  her  silken  tresses  idly  toy, 
And  track  her  footsteps  like  a  puny  boy 

From  school-day  thrall  released ; 

To  revel  all  night  long, 
'Mid  drunken  rout  in  Alexandria's  halls, 
While  round  about  her  close  beleaguered  walls 

Proud  Caesar's  cohorts  throng ! 

But  let  my  foes  beware ! 
Not  half  so  deadly  is  the  lion's  wrath, 
To  those  who  cross  his  lonely  desert  path, 

As  my  own  fierce  despair. 

Ho  !   Herald,  sound  to  arms  ! 
Call  all  my  trusty  Captains  to  the  field! 
Death  to  the  coward-slave  would  basely  yield 

His  post  to  Safety's  charms ! 

Bring  forth  my  good  sword  true, 

Whose  edge  hath  smitten  earth's  wide,  shrinking  coasts. 
Now  shall  it  cleave  young  Caesar's  serried  hosts 

Like  lightning  flashing  through  ! 


278  To  Our  Sister. 

Through  every  throbbing  vein, 
I  feel  the  tide  heroic  swiftly  pour, 
And  Antony  shall  be  himself  once  more — 

A  Roman  once  again  ! 

Away,  soft  Pleasure's  breath  ! 
Now  shall  my  soul  drink  deep  of  Glory's  cup, 
Until  the  reeling  world  is  swallowed  up 

In  Victory,  or  Death  ! 


TO   OUR   SISTER. 


[WITH    PHOTOGRAPH.] 


The  past  has  drifted  far  away, 

The  years  arc  all  behind, 
And  faded  into  ashes  gray 

Youth's  rosy  hopes  that  twined 
So  soft  and  bright  around  each  brow! 
Oh!  perished  hopes,  where  arc  ye  now? 

Our  ways  are  parted  far  and  wide — 

The  Kates  have  set  their  sign; 
And  boundless  wastes  our  paths  divide, 

not  my  soul  from  thine; 
Oh,  not  forgotten  all  these  days, 
Thy  tender  heart  and  loving  way    ! 

r,  whi-n  these  shadowy  lines 
In  after  day-;  you  sec, 
j         :n  youth's  fair  sun  still  brightly  shines, 

And  kindly  think  of  me, 
And  these,  our  noble  brothers  dear, 

.hen  our  fool-tc  p>  lin-ered  near.     . 


Rest.  279 


And  gentle  sister,  when  Life's  day, 

That  closeth  over  all, 
Has  melted  into  eve  away, 

And  night-shades  softly  fall, 
May  everlasting  peace  be  thine, 
And  rest,  where  roses  ever  twine. 


REST. 


After  the  weary  years, 

After  the  sad  unrest, 
After  the  sighs  and  tears, 

Cometh  the  evening  blest; 
Rest  for  the  weary  feet, 

Rest  from  each  phantom  scheme, 
Quiet  and  slumber  sweet. 

After  Life's  troubled  dream. 

Life  shall  replace  cold  death, 

Glory  of  bud  and  rose 
After  the  North-wind's  breath, 

After  the  Winter  snows; 
Music  of  stream  be  heard, 

Flowers  shall  bloom  again, 
Sunshine  and  song  of  bird 

After  the  cloud  and  rain. 

After  Life's  desert  plain, 

After  the  dust  and  heat, 
After  the  toil  and  pain, 

Cometh  the  twilight  sweet; 
Calm  to  each  troubled  breast 

After  the  doubts  and  fears; 
Quiet  and  peace  and  rest, 

After  the  weary  years. 


280  Mission  San  l:cnuvido,  A*  D.  1882. 

MISSION  SAN  FERNANDO,  A.  D.  1882. 


Vague,  mystic  awe  of  midnight  deep — 
Low  shivering  sighs  and  hush  of  sleep 

O'er  shadowy  arch  and  wall; 
The  wind  goes  by  with  hollow  moan, 
And  o'er  the  ruins,  dim  and  lone, 

The  trembling  moonbeams  fall. 

The  moon  in  glory  rides  on  high ; 
The  camp-fire  fades;  and,  as  I  lie 

Beside  the  smouldering  coals, 
A  century,  with  its  hopes  and  fears, 
Its  loves  and  hates,  and  smiles  and  tears, 

Its  mystic  scroll  unrolls. 

The  myriad  lamps  of  heavenly  light 
Transfigure  with  a  halo  bright 

The  hoary  ruins  gray; 
And  lo!  from  out  the  buried  years, 
A  vi-i«>n  of  the  past  appears 

In  all  its  brave  array. 

I  sec  beneath  the  mountain  heights 
The  hurrying  crowd  of  neophytes 

Go  by  in  burdened  train  ; 
And  o'er  the  purple,  billowy  swells, 
The  music  of  the  Mis-ion  bells 

Floats  softly  up  again. 

I  sec  the  solemn,  priestly  march 
Beneath  the  massive  church-way  arch; 

I  hear  the  prayers  and  ! 
Around  the  altar  dim  and  quaint, 
Where  I  loly  Virgin,  Christ  and  Saint 

Look  down  with  pitying  eyes. 


Mission  San  Fernando   A.  D.  1882*  281 

I  see  a  throng  of  maidens  fair  — 
Sweet  lips  that  murmur  low  in  prayer, 

Or  penitential  mood  — 
That  have  no  secrets  to  confess 
Save  Love's  transgressions,  more  or  less 

Of  evil,  or  of  good. 

I  see  the  dim  procession  slow, 
In  solemn  pageant  come  and  go 

To  keep  the  Lenten  Fast  ; 
Quaint  pomp  of  holy  Mass  and  Feast, 
Like  sunrise  rays  that  flush  the  east, 

Night  shadows  fled  and  past 

I  see  the  lithe  vaquero  dash 

Across  the  plain,  like  lightning  flash, 

Or  'mid  the  eddying  whirl 
Of  frantic  bands  that  flee  in  vain 
For  safety  o'er  the  flowery  plain, 

His  trusty  lasso  hurl. 

I  see  the  caballero  speed, 

And  sudden  rein  his  fiery  steed, 

And  bow  with  knightly  grace 
Beneath  his  broad  sombrero's  shade, 
To  greet  the  un  reluctant  maid 

O'ertaken  in  the  race. 

Morn,  and  a  flush  of  green  and  gold! 
But  not  the  glory  as  of  old, 

The  wakened  vision  greets; 
No  fleeing  bands,  with  thundering  sweep 
Disturb  the  ages'  dreamless  sleep; 
But,  hushed  in  silence,  soft  and  deep, 

The  Past  the  Present  meets. 


UI?  I  V  E  E  &!  T  Y| 

y»  mi* 


282  Jl fission  San  Fernando,  A.  D.  1882. 

Now  but  a  sea  of  waving  grain 
O'crsprcads  afar  the  shimmering  plain 

Where  once  the  serried  bands, 
Like  shadows  o'er  a  slumbering  sea, 
In  wayward  fancy,  wandering  free, 

O'ercloudcd  all  the  lands. 

Dead  arc  the  Padres — cold  and  ghast; 
Fled  arc  the  glories  of  the  past 

That  once  their  shadows  threw; 
Dust  arc  the  hearts  that  once  beat  high, 
And  dimmed  each  lustrous,  melting  eye 

That  swept  the  ether  blue. 

The  sighing  olive  bends  and  waves 
Above  the  lone  forgotten  gr,. 

Of  neophyte  and  pi 

And  lofty  heights  keep  watch  and  ward, 
As  if  the  slumbering  dust  to  guard, 

i      'in  earthly  care  release  1. 

Beyond  thy  circle,  granite  walled, 
Ringrd  nmnd  and  round  with  emerald, 

Lii.  >\vy  phantom  lines; 

Where  blue  of  skies,  and  mountains,  merge 
Upon  the  dim  h  >ri/.<  >;f 

I  sec  the  spectral  pines. 

They  stand  as  in  the  long  ago, 
Down-gazing  on  the  scene  below, 

A  '.l-b'.und  trance 

Th-  enc 

Unf 

Tin-  far  ,  dazzling  sheen 

t)f  crucifix  and  lai       . 


Illusion.  283 


A  waste  of  crumbling,  ruined  piles; 
A  wreck  of  twisted,  falling  tiles, 

Is  all  that  tells  to-day 
Of  San  Fernando's  kingly  dower, 
Of  glory,  triumph,  pride  and  power, 

Forever  passed  away! 

Alas!  for  Glory's  cherished  gleam! 
Alas!  for  Love's  fond,  tender  dream! 

For  youthful  hope  and  pride ! 
Now,  naught  remains  to  tell  of  all, 
Save  walls  that  totter  to  their  fall! 
And  hushed  Oblivion's  settled  pall 

Spreads  dimly  far  and  wide. 


ILLUSION. 


I  wandered  by  the  ocean  strand, 
And  wrote  my  name  upon  the  sand 

At  early  dawn ; 

When  sunset  died  upon  the  main, 
I  sought  my  impress  once  again — 

Lo!  it  was  gone. 

So  Time's  dark  tides  that  heave  and  sway, 
Shall  wash  Life's  TOO  [.prints  faint  away, 

Away,  away. 

I  saw  the  dazzling  dew-drop  gleam 
Refulgent  in  the  morning  beam, 

Kissed  by  the  sun  ; 
But  ere  the  noon,  its  glory  paled — 
Its  sparkling  splendor  all  exhaled, 

Its  journey  run ; 

Forever  quenched  its  quivering  ray — 
In  viewless  vastness  passed  away, 

Away,  away. 


284  I \-rishcd  Cities. 

I  saw  soft  clouds  at  sunset  lie 
Illumed  with  glory  on  the  sky, 

Ere  fell  the  night; 
lUii  with  the  day's  expiring  gleam, 
They  vanished  as  an  idle  dream, 

!  fled  from  sight; 
Soft  dying  in  the  twilight  gray, 
As  phantoms  fading,  passed  away, 

Away,  away. 

I  saw  the  lily  and  the  rose, 

Their  gorgeous  splendors  all  disclose 

In  Springtime  bloom; 
I  heard  the  winds  of  Autumn  sigh, 
And  saw  the  Summer  glories  lie 

Within  the  tomb. 
As  fades  the  flush  of  rosy  May, 
So  perish  all  Life's  dreams  away, 

Away,  away. 


PERISHED  CITIES.* 


Grave  of  lost  nations!   Land  of  dread  mystery! 

Where  the  Death  Angel  his  watch  ever  keeps, 
Shrouded  oblivion  covers  thy  history, 

Clouded  forgetfulncss  over  ihcc  sweeps; 
Where  the  lone  whirlwind  npivar-  its  tall  column, 

Over  the  desert-lands  lifeless  and  wan, 
Mournfully  wandering,  spectral  and  solemn, 

Like  some  tall  ghost  of  the  centuries  gone — 
Listlessly  wandering,  swaying  and  sweeping, 

I  taunting  forever  the  desolate  space, 
Like  some  sad  mourner,  regretfully  weeping 

Over  the  graves  of  a  buried  race. 

•  The  reference  in  this  poem  is  to  the  ruined  cities,  scattered  over  the  deserts  of  Arizona. 


Perished  Cities.  285 

Lost  to  the  world  is  their  name  and  their  story, 
Bright  scroll  of  honor  or  record  of  lust; 

o 

Perished  forever  their  fame  and  their  glory, 

Hidden  by  ages  of  darkness  and  dust. 
All  we  may  know  of  thy  dark/ shrouded  history 

Is  that  a  city  hath  stood  on  this  spot ; 
All  we  may  write  of  thy  dark,  fearful  mystery— 

"  Here  hath  a  nation  once  lived,  and  is  not." 

We,  too,  may  perish  ere  Time's  full  maturity, 

Veiled  be  our  glory  from  history's  light; 
Cloud  and  obscurity  shroud  our  futurity, 

Dreamless  oblivion  hide  us  in  night. 
Glory  and  fame  are  but  fickle  and  rotten — 

Gone  as  the  sound  of  the  rolling  drum; 
We,  too,  may  perish  and  slumber  forgotten 

In  the  long  lapses  of  ages  to  come, 
Seas  may  sweep  over  us,  desert  sands  cover  us, 

Whirling  and  drifting  o'er  valley  and  plain, 
Earthquakes  may  swallow  us,  ages  to  follow  us 

Search  for  our  name  and  our  record,  in  vain. 

Armies  may  march  to  the  battle-call  hurried, 

In  the  dim  dawn  of  the  ages  to  be, 
Over  our  dust  and  our  monuments,  buried 

In  the  dark  depths  of  Eternity's  sea; 
Still  shall  we  slumber,  though  empires  be  quaking — 

Moveless,  oblivious,  dreamless  our  sleep — 
Till  the  Great  Trumpet's  deep  echoes,  awaking, 

Summon  the  dead  from  eternity's  deep. 


286  The  Song  of  the  Locomotive. 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  LOCOMOTIVE. 


In  the  dim  of  the  dawn  of  the  East, 

I  chafe  with  a  longing  incrca 
To  the  land  of  the  West, 
Where  the  bright  visions  rest, 

To  flee  like  a  spirit  released. 

With  a  throb,  and  a  thrill,  and  a  scream, 
A  leap,  and  away  like  a  dream  ! 
Pa.^t  woodland  and  brake, 

I  streamlet  and  lake, 
O'er  prairie,  and  valley  and  stream. 

Like  a  mad  fleeing  demon  insane, 
I  come  with  my  swift-rushing  train, 

Where  the  night-banners  flaunt 

O'er  the  Indian's  lone  haunt, 
Then  vanish  in  darkness  again. 

1      t  caves  of  Aladdin,  where  shine 
The  treasures  of  grotto  and  mine, 

Past  mirage  and  gleam, 

Still  on  lik  .m, 

Through  shivers  of  tremulous  pine, 

Through  sunshine,  and  darkness,  and  rain, 
O'er  mountain,  and  desert,  and  plain, 
With  a  shriek  and  a  roar, 
Through  the  tunnel's  dark  door 
I  sweep  with  my  thundering  train. 

With  a  era  h,  and  a  flash,  and  a  gleam, 
With  a  lea}),  and  a  bound,  and  a  scream, 

Through  the  gates  of  the  West 

With  a  longing  unrest, 
I  vanish  and  pass  as  a  dream. 


Life  and  Death.  287 


LIFE  AND  DEATH. 


Life  is  a  quickly  ended  race, 
Where  love  clasps  love  a  little  space, 
In  trembling,  yearning,  fond  embrace 

Of  hopes  and  fears; 

Where  friend  meets  friend,  and  swift  forgets, 
Full  of  vain  dreams  and  sad  regrets, 
A  clouded  sun  that  darkly  sets 

'Mid  sighs  and  tears. 

Earth  is  a  vale  of  tears  and  sighs, 
O'er-arched  by  ever-changing  skies, 
Whose  evanescent  crimson  dyes 

At  morning  gleam; 
Life  is  but  as  a  Summer  day, 
We  pale  and  melt  and  pass  away 
As  fades  the  sunset's  dying  ray — 

A  perished  dream. 

Death  is  but  as  the  chilling  frost, 

When  Summer  lies  with  sweet  hands  crossed, 

And  zephyrs  sigh  o'er  sere  leaves  lost 

From  spray  and  bough; 
And  sad  winds  wail,  and  Nature  lies 
Beneath  the  pall  of  sombre  skies, 
With  pallid  face  and  dreamless  eyes, 

And  marble  brow. 

The  chilling  blasts  of  Autumn  sweep, 
And  deathly  tremors  thrill  and  creep; 
Earth's  flowery  glories,  withered,  sleep 

In  dust  and  gloom; 

But  Springtime  comes,  with  smiling  train, 
And  decks  with  flowers  the  sleeping  plain, 
And  blushing  roses  burst  again 

From  Nature's  tomb. 


288  The  City  of  Silence. 


THE  CITY  OF  SILENCE. 

I  murmured  a  careless  ditty 

One  morn  in  the  month  of  May, 
As  I  came  to  the  gate  of  a  city 

That  gleamed  in  the  Spring's  soft  ray ; 
And  idly  said,  "  I  will  enter 

And  stray  through  its  pathways  wide, 
And  look  on  its  busy  centre, 

And  drift  with  its  mighty  tide." 

I  passed  through  its  open  portal, 

And  ga/i-d  with  a  face  of  awe, 
For  never  a  living  mortal 

Abroad  in  the  streets,  I  saw ! 
I  saw  not  the  spirit  warding 

The  gate  with  its  mystic  scroll- 
Death's  faithful  sentry  guarding 

The  rest  of  the  weary  soul. 

Tall  monuments,  white  and  sparkling, 

Rose  beckoning,  far  and  wide, 
And  willows,  and  cypress  darkling, 

O'crshadcd  each  pathway's  side. 
And  a  hu>h  of  eternal  slumber 

Seemed  ever  to  brood  and  cling — 
A  shadow  to  pall  and  cumber, 

As  cast  by  some  raven-wing. 

Long,  long  through  the  streets  I  wandered, 

Hut  never  a  shout  or  cry 
Went  up,  as  I  sadly  pondered, 

Nor  ever  a  moan  or  sigh  ; 
But  silence  and  aw<-  supernal, 

Deep-shrouding,  clung  brooding  o'er — 
A  stillness  and  hush  eternal, 

Unbroken,  forcvcrmore. 


The  City  of  Silence.  289 

No  bright,  gilded  wheels  of  fashion 

Rolled  on  through  the  stately  street, 
Nor  ever  a  cry  of  passion 

Gave  sign  of  a  heart's  proud  beat; 
Nor  ever  a  voice  of  pity, 

Nor  ever  a  sob  or  sigh 
Rose  up  from  that  crowded  City 

Of  Silence,  to  fret  the  sky. 

Then  a  fear  as  of  death  came  o'er  me — 

Of  something  unseen,  unheard; 
Still  slumbered  the  City  before  me 

By  semblance  of  life  unstirred. 
I  knocked  at  each  marble  dwelling, 

And  heard  but  the  zephyr's  sigh; 
The  name  that  each  door  was  telling 

I  called,  there  was  no  reply. 

Then  I  said  with  a  sad  heart,  sighing 

As  I  turned  to  the  gateway's  door, 
"  I  will  cease  from  my  labor,  trying 

This  mystery  to  explore." 
But  hard  by  a  marble  column, 

A  figure  paced  soft  and  slow; 
His  face  with  an  awe  was  solemn, 

His  beard  was  as  driven  snow. 

And  he  said,  with  a  voice  of  pity, 

And  a  sigh  like  the  South-wind's  breath, 
"This,  this  is  the  Silent  City, 

And  I  am  its  warder,  Death. 
With  never  an  intermission, 

Earth's  myriads,  slow  or  fast, 
All,  all  in  a  dim  procession — 

They  pass  through  my  gate  at  last  I 


290  The  City  of  Silence. 

"All  roads  to  this  City  centre — 

From  East  and  from  farthest  West, 
Their  toil-worn  travelers  enter 

My  gate,  and  I  give  them  r 
Rest,  rest  for  the  weak  and  weary, 

The  worn,  and  the  lone,  and  old, 
That  have  passed  through  Life's  deserts  dreary, 

Its  storm,  and  its  heat  and  cold. 

"  Here  plotter,  and  pallid  schemer 

Repose  in  a  slumber  deep; 
And  prophet,  and  priest,  and  dreamer 

Arc  hushed  in  a  dreamless  sleep. 
Together  they  sleep  in  quiet — 

The  beggar,  with  gilded  Pride, 
Proud  Pomp,  with  its  pampered  riot, 

And  Poverty — side  by  side. 

"The  bright  budding,  tender,  maiden, 

The  babe  on  its  mother's  breast, 
Proud  manhood  with  promise  laden. 

The  bride  for  the  bridal  dressed; 
Old  age  with  its  triumphs  hoary, 

Rash  youth,  and  pale  coward  Fear, 
Hope,  Wisdom,  and  Strength,  and  Glory 

Together  arc  gathered  here. 

"  Here  Envy,  and  Joy  and  Sorrow, 

Arc  buried  and  known  no  more; 
And  none  for  the  coming  morrow 

Take  heed,  or  arc  troubled  sore. 
The  toiler  forgets  his  labor, 

The  merchant  forgets  his  wares, 
The  soldier,  his  cherished  sabre, 

The  miser,  his  sordid  cares. 


Darkness  and  Light.  291 

"This,  this  is  the  Silent  City, 

Hushed  deep  as  the  wastes  of  snow, 
Where  nevermore  Hate  or  Pity* 

Its  dwellers  may  feel  or  know. 
O,  firmer  than  Life's  frail  building, 

Are  laid  its  foundations  sure, 
And  longer  than  Folly's  gilding 

And  baubles,  its  works  endure. 

"Ye  flourish  a  little  season, 

And  flaunt  in  the  sun's  bright  gleam, 
And  know  not  a  single  reason, 

Or  wherefore  ye  toil  and  scheme! 
Here,  cometh  no  storm  to  mutter 

And  trouble  your  dreamless  sleep, 
But  silence  and  stillness  utter, 

Their  watches  eternal  keep!" 


DARKNESS  AND  LIGHT. 


Silence,  as  when  hope  is  dying 

In  the  dread  extreme, 
On  the  earth's  broad  breast  was  lying 

Like  a  nightmare  dream. 
Not  an  earthquake  dared  to  mutter, 
Chaos  ghastly,  deep  and  utter 

Reigned  o'er  earth  supreme. 

Not  a  tremor  thrilled  creation, 

Not  a  shuddering  breeze; 
Not  a  quivering  tide's  pulsation 

Stirred  the  lifeless  seas — 
Awe  and  silence,  dread  and  stillness, 
As  when  Death's  dark,  creeping  chillncss 

Life's  faint  fountains  freeze. 


292  Darkness  and  Light. 


Not  a  breath  of  wind,  sad  sweeping, 

Not  a  sigh  or  sound  ; 
Not  a  zephyr  tiptoe  creeping, 

Stirred  the  awe  around. 
Voiceless  voids,  and  black  abysses, 
Never  cheered  by  Day's  bright  kisses, 

Slept  in  hush  profound. 

Swift  through  space  the  word  came  rushing: 

"  Let  the  Dark  be  Light  ! " 
Lo!  illumined  earth  lay  blushing, 

Clothed  in  glory  bright 
Light  and  beauty  reigned  in  quiet; 
Quick  before  His  awful  fiat 

Fled  away  the  night. 

Sprang  a  myriad  graces  tender, 

Swift  from  Nature's  tomb; 
Roses,  flushed  with  queenly  splendor, 

Stood  in  fragrant  bloom. 
Death,  and  dread,  and  silence  fastly 
Fled  away  like  spectres  ghastly, 
-  Through  the  shuddering  gloom. 

Glow  of  hope  and  purple  glory 

All  earth's  ways  adorn, 
Like  a  queen  of  fairy  story 

In  her  dazzling  morn; 
Flush  of  sky  and  dcwdrop  glitter, 
Zephyr  kiss  and  song-bird  twitter, 

Of  the  radiance  born. 

Music  sweet  and  song  resounding 

Through  the  valleys  fair, 
Joyous  life  in  earth  abounding — 

Life  in  sea  and  air. 

Glory  crowns  the  cloud-kissed  mountain, 
Splendor  clothes  the  sparkling  fountain — 
uty  everywhere. 


Abaione.  293 

Vast  and  dark,  with  plumes  o'erclouding, 

Black-winged,  brooding  night, 
With  her  death-  pall  nature  shrouding, 

Fled  in  sore  affright. 
Swift  before  the  fiat  spoken, 
Nature's  spell-bound  trance  was  broken — 

There  was  Life  and  Light. 


ABALONE. 


Dream  of  gorgeous  sunset  skies, 
Reflex  of  the  rainbow  dyes, 
Mirrored  in  the  crystal  wave, 
Treasure  of  the  Naiad's  cave; 
Brighter  than  the  pearl's  soft  sheen, 
Pride  of  dusky  Egypt's  Queen, 
With  thy  irridesccnt  gleam, 
Changeful  as  a  fairy  dream; 
Fit  to  deck  a  royal  brow, 
With  thy  lustrous  glow,  art  thou. 

Haply  thou  shalt  deck  the  hair 
Of  some  maiden  sweet  and  fair, 
Luring  with  a  purer  smile, 
Than  the  Siren  of  the  Nile; 
Or,  in  trembling  rapture,  hide 
In  the  tresses  of  the  bride; 
Or,  in  happy  home  remote, 
Clasp  the  snow  of  some  fair  throat; 
Or,  in  swooning  rapture  rest 
Fondled  soft  on  Beauty's  breast, 
Thrilling  to  the  ardent  kiss 
Of  some  proud  Scmiramis — 
Circling  fond  the  radiant  zone 
Of  some  Queen  to  fame  unknown. 


294  Union  Bine  and  Rebel  Gray. 

UNION  BLUE  AND  REBEL  GRAY. 


[AT   GETTYSBURG,   JULY   3,    1863.] 

Belched  the  cannon's  fiery  blast, 

Crashed  the  death-bolts  through  and  through 
Where  the  serried  hosts  were  massed — 

Rebel  Gray  and  Union  Blue. 
Friends  and  brothers  but  of  late, 

Marshaled  on  the  field  of  gore, 
In  the  flush  of  pride  and  hate, 

Met — to  part  again  no  more. 

Met  to  greet  as  warriors  greet, 

With  the  hate  that  focmcn  feel; 
Hand  to  hand,  and  feet  to  feet, 

Rank  to  rank,  and  steel  to  steel. 
Met  to  seek  each  other's  lives 

'Mid  the  battle's  deadly  din; 
Met  to  widow  waiting  wives — 

Oh,  the  pity  and  the  sin  ! 

Mothers,  sisters,  long  shall  weep 

In  the  far-off,  lonely  home, 
And  the  maid  her  vigil  keep 

;•  the  steps  that  never  come. 
Heart  t      h    .irt,  and  bn  ;:  -t  1<  •  bn 

1 
After  battle's  heat  they  rest — 

Union  Blue,  and  Rebel  dray. 

In  the  North's  hushed  cities  grand, 

Through  the  Streets  the  mourners  go; 

In  the  Smith's  wide,  sunny  land, 
There  arc  sobs,  and  tears,  and  woe. 

Oh,  the  sorrow  !    how  they  died 

On  death's  harvest-field,  that  day! 

Mingled,  bn  :atto  r<-d  wide — 

Union  Blue  and  Rebel  (iray  ! 


"As  the  Grass."  295 

AS  THE  GRASS." 


I  saw  a  babe  on  its  mother's  breast, 
Close  in  its  dreamless  slumber  pressed ; 

And  its  rest  was  sweet,  in  its  trust  complete, 
As  a  fledgeless  bird's  in  its  downy  nest. 

And  then  a  boy,  at  life's  opening  day, 
Bound  o'er  the  flowery  plain  away, 

Hither  and  there,  and  everywhere 
He  skipped  unchecked,  like  a  lamb  at  play. 

A  little  while,  and  I  saw  a  youth, 
Lordly  as  Boaz,  when  gentle  Ruth 

Gleaned  in  his  golden  harvest  fields, 
And  his  eye  was  bright  in  its  joy  and  truth. 

His  laugh  was  clear  as  a  sabre's  clang; 
His  shout  like  a  bugle's  notes  out-rang; 

And  in  the  flush  of  the  rosy  morn, 
His  song  was  glad  as  the  birds  that  sang. 

And  then  a  little,  and  lo  !  his  hands 
Grasped  at  the  tribute  of  teeming  lands, 

And  his  flocks  that  fed,  in  their  mighty  spread, 
Were  countless  and  vast  as  the  sea-sown  sands. 

I  saw  him  once  in  the  years  again, 

As  he  tottered  alone  o'er  life's  desert  plain; 

Fled  was  the  gleam  of  Hope's  mirage  dream, 
And  his  form  was  weary  and  bent  with  pain. 

His  eyes  with  the  mists  of  Time  were  blind, 
And  his  trembling  voice  like  the  sighing  wind, 

And  the  twilight  gray  of  lifers  closing  day, 
Fell  sadly  over  his  darkened  mind. 


296  Our  Dead  President. 

And  I  said,  as  I  turned  from  the  scene,  "Alas  ! 
Man  springcth  up  like  the  quickened  grass, 

But  the  cold  winds  call  and  the  hoar-frosts  fall, 
And  he  fades  as  the  shadow  that  mocks  the  glass. 

"Death  is  his  doom,  and  decay  his  lot — 
To  bloom  like  the  grass,  and  to  die  and  rot; 

Fading  and  gone  like  the  stars  at  dawn, 
And  his  strength  and  glory  continue  not !" 


OUR  DEAD  PRESIDENT* 

Gleam  of  promise,  vanished,  gone, 
Like  a  star  at  flush  of  dawn, 
Like  a  glorious  light  withdrawn, 

Best  and  noblest  of  the  land, 
Stricken  in  thy  triumph  grand, 
By  the  curst  assassin's  hand, 

O'er  thy  grave  with  flowers  bestrewed, 
Lo  !  we  bow  in  grief  subdued, 
But  to  rise  with  strength  renewed. 

God  of  Nations,  hear  our  prayer ! 
In  this  hour  of  dark  despair, 
With  a  people's  anguish  bear. 

Curse  the  coward  murderer,  knave ! 
Curse  the  vile  assassin,  slave! 
Let  him  fill  a  felon's  ^rave. 

Let  the  carrion-vulture  sit, 
Sable-pi u maged,  mourner  fit, 
Gloating  ever  over  it. 

•Written  UIXJH  reception  of  news  <.f  th<-  .l-.<t!i  •  f  President  r.arfield. 


Our  Dead  President.  297 

Let  pollution  evermore, 

On  his  worthless  dust  outpour; 

All  his  memory  cover  o'er. 

But  for  thee,  a  Nation's  pride, 
Hero-martyr,  true  and  tried, 
Love  shall  ever-more  abide. 


Roses  'round  thy  rest  shall  cling; 
Fairest  flowers  shall  bloom  in  Spring; 
Sweetest  birds  shall  flit  and  sing. 

Here  our  children  to  thy  tomb, 
With  their  gifts  of  fragrant  bloom, 
As  to  holy  fane  shall  come, 

As  Time's  cycles  swiftly  fly, 
And  thy  bright  example  high, 
Teach  them  how  to  live  and  die. 

As  a  flashing  beacon-flame 

O'er  dark  waters,  so  thy  fame 

Still  shall  shine;  thy  glorious  name 

Blazoned  bright  in  every  clime, 
And  thy  words  of  faith,  sublime, 
Echo  down  the  aisles  of  Time. 

Not  for  thec  may  sorrow's  gloom, 
Cast  its  shadow  o'er  the  tomb; 
Garlands,  fadeless  in  their  bloom, 

'Round  thy  memory  still  shall  twine, 
And  thy  star  forever  shine, 
Gleaming  with  a  light  divine. 


298  Alamo. 


ALAMO. 

The  southern  zephyrs  whispered  low 
Around  the  slumbering  Alamo, 

And  not  one  wail,  o'er  hill  or  vale 
Foretold  of  wrath  and  overthrow. 

By  San  Antonio's  limpid  wave, 
Undaunted  stood  the  free  and  brave; 

And  like  a  dream,  the  crystal  stream 
Flowed  onward  to  its  ocean  grave. 

Within,  a  noble  Spartan  band 
Kept  watch  and  ward  o'er  Freedom's  land, 
To  brave  the  scath  of  tyrant  wrath, 

With  lion  heart  and  ready  hand. 

• 

Without,  ten  thousand  hirelings  stood 
With  hearts  athirst  to  drink  their  blood- 
To  crush  the  right,  with  tyrant  might, 
And  strangle  all  of  true  and  good. 

Tiny  came  in  darkly  marshaled  line, 
Their  flag,  fell  lulrrd's  bloody  sign, 

'Mid  cannon  boom,  to  meet  their  doom, 
In  serried  mass,  like  driven  kine. 

in  !   and  once  again 
i          break  against  the  walls  in  vain, 
And  far  around,  the  bloody  ground 
Is  strewn  with  heaps  of  helots  slain. 

How  could  those  free-born  patriot  bra\  cs 
Give  up  their  sunny  land  to  slavr    ! 

Oh,  better  die,  than  li\< 
And  wait,  for  gray,  dishonored  graves! 


Bubbles.  299 

They  fought  like  brave  men  long  and  well, 
And  Glory's  page  shall  ever  tell 

Of  warrior  meed,  of  hero  deed — 
How  Crockett  fought  and  Travis  fell. 

No  messenger  from  thence  went  back, 
Upon  retreat's  swift,  fearful  track, 

To  tell  the  tale  of  faces  pale, 
Of  proud  defeat,  and  Freedom's  wrack. 

Down  sank  the  lurid  trembling  sun; 
The  work  of  patriot  hands  was  done; 

Asleep  they  lay  at  close  of  day — 
The  crown  of  deathless  glory  won.          » 


BUBBLES. 


Evermore  planning  and  striving  and  fretting, 
Straining  to  reach  till  the  bauble  is  won, 

Ceaselessly  moaning  and  toiling  and  sweating, 
And  what  of  it  all  when  our  doing  is  done  ? 

Weary  and  worn,  and  the  sun  at  its  setting, 
And  never  a  step  in  the  journey  begun. 

Evermore  hungering,  filled  with  desiring, 

Shrouded  in  darkness,  and  plotting  and  scheme, 

Fretting  and  getting,  and  toying  and  tiring — 
What  is  our  life  but  a  meteor's  gleam  ? 

Naught  but  a  flash  in  oblivion  expiring, 
Naught  but  a  fever-racked  lunatic's  dream. 

Quaking  in  fear  like  the  aspens  that  quiver 
Faint  in  the  tremulous  gray  of  the  dawn, 

What  are  our  lives  but  a  shudder  and  shiver? — 
Only  as  blanks  when  the  prizes  are  drawn; 

Only  the  bubbles  that  float  on  Time's  river, 
Gleaming  an  instant  and  evermore  gone. 


3OO  The  Song  of  the  Bee. 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  BEE. 


With  dreamy  hum 

I  go  and  come, 
Like  flitting,  fairy  maiden; 

And  come  and  go 

\Yhcrc  zephyrs  blow 
With  flowery  incense  laden. 

In  hermit  glen, 
From  haunts  of  men, 

Afar  I  seek  my  treasure, 
And  revel  long 
Where  beauties  throng, 

To  list  my  tender  measure. 

By  fount  and  spring, 

On  wayward  wing, 
Each  fancy  bright  pursuing, 

Amid  their  bowers 

I  seek  the  flowers, 
And  trance  them  with  my  wooing. 

With  thrill  of  bliss, 

Bright  lips  I  kiss, 
Nor  dream  of  faithless  wronging, 

And  hour  by  hour, 

From  flower  to  flower, 
I  tell  my  talc  of  longing. 

O'er  hill  and  lawn, 

From  rosy  dawn, 
Till  sunset's  lances  quiver, 

I  flit  and  sing 

And  sip  and  cling 
Like  lover  fond  forever. 


Life's  Panorama.  301 

And  all  day  long 

With  ceaseless  song 
I  drift  o'er  flowery  meadows; 

And  sing  and  dream, 

And  flash  and  gleam, 
Till  fall  the  twilight  shadows. 


LIFE'S  PANORAMA. 


What  is  earth  with  all  its  schemes 

But  a  fleeting  panorama  ? 
What  is  life  with  all  its  dreams, 

But  a  shifting  weary  drama? 
Gorgeous  visions  come  and  pass 
Like  the  shadow  in  the  glass, 
Fading,  vanishing,  alas ! 

Like  the  snow-flake  on  the  river; 
Dying  like  the  sunset's  gleam, 
Melting  like  a  midnight  dream, 
Swallowed  in  the  depths  supreme — 

Gone  forever,  and  forever. 

What  of  all  our  plans  and  cares, 

Ceaseless  effort,  toil  unfailing; 
What  of  all  our  hopes  and  fears  ? 

Useless,  bootless,  unavailing ! 
What  of  glory's  fond  desire, 
Trump  of  fame  or  tuneful  lyre, 
Siren-song  and  thrill  of  fire, 

Of  ambition's  mad  endeavor, 
Onward,  swift,  careering,  grand; 
Like  the  foot-print  on  the  sand, 
Of  the  ocean's  wave-washed  strand — 

Faded,  blotted  out  forever ! 


3<D2  The.  Last   Tniwp. 


THE  LAST  TRUMP. 

I  heard  a  mighty  trumpet  blast 
That  shook  Creation's  circle  vast, 

And  sudden  sprang  to  quickened  life 
The  myriad  sleepers  of  the  pa  t. 

In  earth's  remotest  lone  degree, 
From  every  island  of  the  sea, 

Awakened  rose  the  spectral  hosts 
From  Death's  deep  slumber,  bond  and  free. 

From  Europe's  every  hill  and  vale 
Oft  swept  by  storm  of  iron  hail, 

Thick  as  the  lances  of  the  pine 
Came  forth  the  phantoms,  cold  and  pale. 

From  every  clime,  from  every  land, 
From  Afric's  burning  wastes  of  sand, 
From  olden  Asia's  burdened  breast, 
They  started  up,  a  countless  band. 

The  hoary  Pyramids  were  rent, 
Their  awful  secrets  all  unpcnt, 

And  mighty  Egypt's  mummied  Kings, 
Stalked  forth  in  ghastly  cerement. 

Quick  when  the  awful  summons  pealed, 
Death's  marble  lips  were  all  unsealed, 
And  gory  legions  slumbering  long 
Leaped  up  on  every  battle  field. 

Stern  warriors  plumed  and  glory-starred, 
With  helmets  rent  and  battle-scarred, 

From  every  desert,  hill,  and  plain, 
Where  mighty  Rome  with  Carthage  warred. 


TJie  Last  Trump.  303 

Dark  masses  swayed  like  serried  grain, 
And  Timour's  Tartars  once  again, 

Like  thunder-cloud  full  charged  with  wrath, 
O'crshadowed  all  the  Eastern  plain. 

Thick  from  the  land  that  long  hath  slept, 
Where  Mary  smiled,  and  Jesus  wept; 

With  lances  poised,  and  sabres  bared 
The  Moslem  and  Crusader  leapt. 

The  soundless  seas  gave  up  their  dead, 
Their  monsters  in  sore  terror  fled; 

And  countless  spectres  cold  and  pale, 
Upstarted  from  their  watery  bed. 

The  shuddering  millions,  line  on  line, 
Swift  marshaled  gave  no  cry  nor  sign; 

And  from  their  clinging  garment  hems, 
Slow  dripped  the  bitter,  salt  sea-brine. 

The  skinny  miser  lean  and  old, 
With  clammy  fingers  thin  and  cold, 

Like  carrion-gloating  vulture,  clutched 
With  talon-grip,  his  bag  of  gold. 

The  dark  assassin  dyed  in  blood, 
Glared  fiercely  on  the  meek  and  good; 

And  vacant-staring  side  by  side, 
The  murderer  and  his  victim  stood. 

Pale  risen  ghosts  thronged  every  place, 
With  stony  eyes  and  pallid  face; 

In  all  earth's  vast,  retreating  bounds, 
There  was  no  waste  or  vacant  space. 

The  parted  veil  of  heaven  for  aye, 
As  parchment  scroll  was  rolled  away, 

And  all  earth's  quickened  spirits  stood 
In  terror  of  the  Judgment  Day. 


304  The  Ariel  of  the  Spring. 

THE  ARIEL  OF  THE  SPRING. 


Tireless  toiler,  with  thy  wing 
Winnowing  soft  the  breath  of  Spring, 
Darkling  doubt  is  over,  sing ! 

Sing  of  bright  and  Summer  hours, 
Sing  of  dreamy  Summer  bowers, 
Sing  of  fragrance-haunting  flowers, 

Laden  with  their  nectar  sweet, 
Glad  that  wait  thy  lips  to  greet 
As  when  trembling  lovers  meet; 

Sighing,  beckoning  everywhere— 
On  the  mountain  slope  afar 
Lifting  high  its  mighty  bar, 

In  the  valley,  on  the  plain, 
Nestling  'mid  the  serried  grain, 
Kissed  by  sun,  and  dew  and  rain, 

Wreathing  Nature's  smiling  face, 
Bending  with  their  tender  grace 
Over  each  lone,  vacant  space. 

O,  thou  Ariel-spirit  fleet, 

Flitting  swift  from  sweet  to  sweet, 

Every  flowery  queen  to  greet, 

Sipping  Nature's  fairy  wine, 
Oh,  that  thy  sweet  life  were  mine; 
n  bright  and  brief  as  thine  ! 

One  sweet  revel  all  the  hours 
'Mid  the  dreamy,  tender  bowers, 
Then  to  die  'mid  dying  flowers. 


The  "  Jeannette"  305 

THE  "JEANNETTE."* 


Where,  'mid  the  shuddering  gloom 
Of  the  dim  Arctic's  death-like,  cold  embrace, 
With  Death  and  Terror  ever  face  to  face, 

Hast  thou  thy  living  tomb  ? 

We  know  not — only  this : 

With  prayerful  hearts,  when  Summer  skies  were  blue, 
We  bade  the  fearless  hearts  a  long  adieu, 

With  many  a  tearful  kiss. 

We  saw  them  proudly  go, 

When  broke  the  cheers,  'mid  many  a  throb  and  thrill, 
Strong  in  unconquerable  hope  and  will, 

Out  with  the  tide's  strong  flow. 

We  watched  thy  fading  form 
Glide  swiftly  seaward  through  the  Golden  Gate, 
To  battle  with  unconqucrcd  hosts  of  fate 

'Mid  Polar  ice  and  storm. 

'Mid  trembling  hope  and  fear 
We  saw  thce  through  Alaska's  mists  and  gloam, 
And  'neath  the  Circle's  low,  impending  dome 

Like  phantom  disappear. 

Where  sleep  ye,  spirits  brave  ? — 
Where  drifting  icebergs  drive  with  thundering  crash, 
Where  hyperborean  furies  madly  lash 

The  torpid  Polar  wave  ? 

Ye  tarry,  sad  perchance, 

Where  never  Spring  the  shores  with  verdure  strewed ; 
Where  lifeless,  cold,  eternal  solitude 

Broods  o'er  the  dread  expanse. 

*  Written  during  the  progress  of  the  search  for  the  "  Jeannette." 
20 


306  The  "Jcauncttc" 

'Mid  frozen,  moveless  calm, 
Locked  in  eternal  death,  ye  fondly  dream, 
'Ncath  the  Aurora's  weird  unearthly  gleam, 

Of  Southern  Seas  of  balm, 

Beneath  such  gorgeous  sheen 
As  flashes  from  the  bright,  eternal  crown, 
As  Heaven  would  cast  its  trembling  glories  down 

In  pity  o'er  the  scene; 

Or  wait  'mid  hopes  and  fears, 
The  rending  of  those  awful  prison  bars, 
Where  blazing,  changeless,  swing  the  low-hung  stars, 

Like  glittering  chandeliers — 

And  long  for  Spring's  soft  breath 
Faint  blown  along  the  latitudes'  far  length 
To  rend  that  icy  barrier's  cruel  strength 

Of  intervening  death; 

Or  vainly  seek  a  path 

Out  from  that  deadly  spell  of  phantom  night, 
To  glide  once  more  to  joyous  life  and  light, 

And  foil  the  Ice  King's  wrath; 

Or  'mid  the  icy  chill, 

Ye  slumber  dreamless,  tombless,  cold  and  ghast, 
Where  Nature  guards,  the  Future  as  the  Past, 

Her  awful  secret  still; 

Or  hast  thou  reached  thy  goal — 
That  phantom-haunted  immemorial  shore, 
Where  day  and  night  and  time  arc  known  no  more— 

The  far  mysterious  Pole  ? 

Locked  in  the  fro/en  floe, 
Perpetual  prisoned  in  that  awful  main, 
To  watch  the  hopeless,  idle  years  in  vain 

Go  drifting  to  and  fro  ? 


The    Vintage.  307 

Bold  knights  to  danger  gone ! 
We  know  not  of  your  triumphs — where  ye  lie; 
We  only  know  that  ye  can  dare  and  die, 

As  dared  and  died  Sir  John, 

Along  your  phantom  track, 
We  gaze  with  straining,  tearful,  wistful  eyes, 
As  heavenward,  daily,  yearning  prayers  arise: 

"Brave  hearts,  come  back  !  come  back  !" 


THE  -VINTAGE. 


Soft  sighs  and  dreamy  purple  haze, 
And  lo  !  the  mellow  vintage  days  ! 

Low  droop  the  cluster-laden  vines, 
Beneath  their  burden's  crimson  gleam, 
Like  shadowy  glimpse  of  Bacchus'  dream. 

In  glory  stretch  the  serried  lines, 

From  mount  to  sea;  o'er  hill  and  plain 
They  spread  afar  like  queenly  train; 

And  now  ancar  and  far  around 
The  sun-browned  laborers'  joyous  strain, 

From  vales  to  echoing  hills  resounds. 

Beneath  the  Autumn's  mellow  glow, 

Where  whispering  groves,  and  leafy  bowers, 
Soft  lull  the  dreamy,  listless  hours, 

A  thousand  purple  rivers  flow; 

A  thousand  fields  in  vale  and  plain, 
Are  red  with  flush  of  crimson  stain, 

Where  marshaled  squadrons  all  day  long, 
From  rosy  morn  to  twilight  gray, 
Like  battle-conquerors,  bear  away 

Their  precious  spoil  with  jest  and  song. 


308  The  Opening  of  the  Seals. 

THE  OPENING  OF  THE  SEALS. 

I.ATIONS.] 

Dread  stillness  reigns  in  Heaven  throughout, 

The  song  of  peace  hath  fled ; 
The  Seals  arc  compassed  round  about 

With  mystic  forms  and  dread; 
Then  spake  a  thunder  voice  to  me. 
Through  the  dread  silence,  "Come  and  sec  !" 

The  shuddering  earth  shrank  low  to  hear; 

The  seas  fled  from  the  strand; 
A  boding  sound  of  wrath  and  fear 

Swept  o'er  the  trembling  land ; 
The  dread  command  Jehovah  spoke, 
And  lo!  the  awful  Seals  were  broke. 

I  looked  and  saw  a  steed  of  white, 

And  he  that  sat  thereon 
Armed  with  a  bow,  and  rays  of  light 

Flashed  from  his  golden  crown; 
In  pride  he  swept  o'er  plain  and  hill 
Far  conquering,  and  to  conquer  still. 

I  looked  again  upon  the  band, 

And  lo  !  the  second  S 
Rent  by  the  same  Almighty  .hand, 

Its  mysteries  reveal — 
A  warrior  fierce  on  steed  of  red, 
And  peace  and  love  from  earth  arc  fled. 

And  once  again  my  gaze  was  fixed, 

Another  voice  I  heard; 
And  'mid  the  hush  of  awe  unmixed 

The  Spirit  broke  the  third; 
And  lo !  a  steed  of  ebon  black, 
And  he  that  sat  upon  his  back 


The  Opening  of  the  Seals.  309 

A  balance  held  within  his  hand, 

As  still  the  right  to  weigh, 
And  from  the  midst  of  that  dread  band 

Another  voice  did  say  : 
"Weigh  justice  to  the  sons  of  toil, 
And  see  thou  hurt  not  wine  and  oil." 

I  looked  again  and  saw  Death  go, 

On  pale  steed  rushing  past ; 
The  nations  shrank  appalled,  and  lo  ! 

Hell  followed  swift  and  fast; 
Dark  Discord  dire,  and  Famine  came, 
And  War,  and  Pestilence  and  Flame. 

A  voice  that  seemed  my  soul  to  awe 

Came  to  me  once  again; 
And  'ncath  the  altar's  shrine  I  saw 

The  souls  of  martyrs  slain; 
And  sad  the  burden  of  their  song, 
"How  long,  O  Lord  !  O  Lord,  how  long!" 

With  pitying  hand  the  Spirit  tore 

Another  awful  Seal ; 
The  seas  rush  on  the  shrieking  shore, 

The  trembling  mountains  reel ; 
With  voice  of  thunder  deep  and  grand, 
A  mighty  earthquake  rocks  the  land. 

Slow  reels  the  blackened,  blasted  sun 

Faint  staggering  on  his  path; 
The  fiery  comets  shriek  and  run 

Before  His  coming  wrath; 
Awe  stricken,  in  a  deadly  swoon, 
Sinks  the  affrighted,  bloody  moon. 

The  sceptred  Kings,  and  mighty  ones, 

The  masters  and  the  slaves, 
The  daughters  proud,  and  haughty  sons, 


310  Mystery. 

Seek  Earth's  remotest  caves; 
The  mountains  to  the  valleys  flee, 
And  isles  forsake  the  shriveled  sea. 

Down  fall  the  stars;  e'en  as  a  scroll, 
The  heavens  in  shrinking  fear, 

Into  dim  chaos  backward  roll — 
The  lifeless  atmosphere, 

Dead  Nature's  awful  funeral  pall 

Hangs  dark  and  heavy  over  all. 

The  awful  day  of  doom  hath  come 
The  fiat  thrills  through  space; 

Let  trembling  earth  shrink  mute  and  dumb, 
Before  His  awful  face; 

God's  footsteps  walkcth  in  His  path, 

And  who  shall  stand  before  His  wrath? 


MYSTERY. 

Oh,  for  1i  .lit  to  pierce  the  gloom 
Of  the  rayless,  silent  tomb  ! 
For  some  echo  from  t.iat  shore 
From  the  voices  gone  before! 
From  that  broad  and  beaten  track 
Whence  no  footsteps  comcth  back  ! 

\\  ill  no  beacon  ever  shine, 
Ever  come  no  word,  nor  sign  ? 
\Yili  no  breath  of  earthly  gale, 
\  lift  that  awful  veil  ? 

\Yill  no  whimpers  ever  come 
i  -till  and  dumb  ? 

Ai.iv  we  never  here  below, 
hi  « -I"  the  I  .ternal  know? 
r   till  the  spirit  !"!• 
Solve  Death's  awful  mysteries  ? 


The  Ostrich.  311 

Not  for  all  our  pleading  tears, 
Not  for  all  our  hopes  and  fears, 
Not  for  all  our  yearning  sighs 
Will  the  mystic  curtain  rise. 
Wherefore  dream  ?     No  human  gaze 
Yet  hath  pierced  that  filmy  haze, 
Never  Love's  deep  yearning  fond, 
Yet  nath  pierced  the  dark  Beyond. 
Vain,  O,  soul,  thy  longing  thrill, 
Wait  thy  moment;    Peace,  be  still ! 


THE  OSTRICH. 

Bird  of  the  desert  land, 

Born  of  the  heat  and  glare, 
Thy  home  is  'mid  the  burning  sand 

Where  all  things  bright  despair ! 
Away  !  away  !  away  ! 

Swift  as  the  chainless  wind; 
A  fading  speck  in  the  dazzling  ray, 

Thy  foes  arc  left  behind. 

A  haunted  life  is  thine, 

Child  of  the  homeless  plain! 
Thy  glory  but  a  danger  sign, 

Thy  treasure  but  thy  bane. 
Afar  'mid  viewless  space, 

They  track  thcc  even  now, 
Thy  nodding  plumes  Pride's  pomp  to  grace, 

To  deck  vain  Beauty's  brow. 

Not  where  the  palm  tree  waves, 

And  murmurs  low  and  sweet; 
Not  where  the  crystal  fountain  laves 

The  weary  pilgrim's  feet; 


3 1 2  Finis. 


Not  'mid  the  sighing  flowers 
By  zephyrs  soft  caressed, 

Not  in  the  hush  of  dreamy  bowers 
Thy  wandering  feet  may  rest; 

Not  in  the  leafy  glade 

Thy  haunted  steps  may  stray, 

Not  'ncath  the  sweet  Mimosa's  shade- 
Bird  of  the  wastes,  away  ! 


FINIS. 


Pleat  and  toil, 

Loot  and  spoil, 
Envy,  malice,  fierce  turmoil, 

]  late  and  strife, 

Discord  rife — 
This  the  work  and  fruit  of  life. 

Toil  and  spin, 
Haste  and  win — 

This  the  everlasting  din. 
Fume  and  fret, 
Strive  and  get — 

This  the  lesson  ever  yet. 

Brief  thy  span, 

Kvery  plan 
Transient  as  the  mist,  O,  man ! 

Glor  .in — 

ry  scheme 
Soon  shall  vanish  as  a  dream. 

Slow  or  fast, 

Slight  or  v. 
Dust  and  ashes  at  the  last : 

Tears  and  gall, 

Shroud  and  pall — 
This  the  last,  and  end  of  all. 


The  Meeting  of  the  Kings.  313 


THE  MEETING  OF  THE  KINGS* 

Ye  burning,  blazing,  incandescent  spheres ! 

Met  on  the  boundless  plains  of  heavenly  space, 
First  in  the  lapses  of  the  countless  years, 

'Mid  glittering,  starry  legions,  face  to  face, 

Like  earth's  proud  monarchs  in  ambition's  race, 
Disdainful  of  weak  man's  vain  sighs  and  tears — 

Ye  march  triumphant  on  toward  power  and  place, 
Unmindful  of  the  puny,  trembling  seers, 
Of  supplicating  prayers,  and  hopes  and  fears. 

In  flaming  pomp,  where  gleam  the  circling  zones, 

You  keep  your  pageant  in  the  midnight  skies, 
Like  jeweled  monarchs  on  their  glittering  thrones, 

Enrobed  in  glory's  evanescent  dyes. 

The  trembling  stars  look  down  in  soft  surprise, 
While  earth's  weak,  babbling,  scared,  prophetic  crones, 

In  awe  look  up  with  wonder-startled  eyes, 
Then  cross  themselves,  and  speak  in  whispered  tones, 
And  grovel  in  the  dust,  with  sighs  and  moans. 

Yet  wherefore  crouch  in  terror,  boastful  man, 

At  vague  portents  thy  coward  spirit  quails 
To  look  upon  ?     The  mighty  Power  whose  plan, 

Infinite  in  its  grandeur,  never  fails, 

In  everlasting  strength,  o'crmastering,  still  prevails, 
Nor  yet  is  measured  earth's  brief,  fitful  span, 

Nor  weighed  in  Time's  eternal,  awful  scales, 
And  wanting  found,  to  perish  'ncath  the  ban 
Of  Him  whose  gaze  the  universes  scan. 

*On  the  conjunction  of  the  great  planets,  July,  1881. 


314  The  Lost  Mine. 

THE  LOST  MINE. 


[A  LF.e.i;\i>  ;  \\   VALI.T.Y.] 

Through  the  burning,  deathly  sand, 
Toward  the  beckoning  Golden  Land, 
Crept  a  wayworn,  weary  band, 

Faint  and  slow; 

They  had  forced  the  mountain  gates, 
1'*  raved  the  Indian's  wiles  and  hates, 
Battled  with  opposing  fates, 

Still,  and  lo! 

Here  was  danger  new  to  thrill, 
Terror  dark  their  souls  to  fill, 
Desolation  deeper  still 

Onward  spread; 
Not  a  sound  relieved  the  scene, 
Not  a  trace  of  living  green, 
All  around,  afar,  between — 

Lifeless,  dead. 

Here  no  verdure-giving  spring, 
Not  a  ghastly,  living  thing; 
Not  an  insect  spread  its  wing 

In  t' 

1      :it  the  shimmering  mountains  lay, 
Or,  like  phantoms  faint  and  gray, 
Fearful,  shuddering,  shrank  away 

In  despair. 

Dim  and  far  the  deft  :d, 

<       ..med  and  glowed  its  fiery  bed- 
Like  a  furnace  overhead 
Flamed  the  sun; 
Spcctral-like,  as  clothed  with  I 
Through   the  ijiiivering  atmosphere 
Rose  vague  shadows  far  and  near— 

Ho;  one 


The  Lost  Mine.  315 

Still  they  struggled  on  again, 

Ever  on,  in  vain,  in  vain! 

O'er  that  awful  wrath-swept  plain 

Scorched  and  bare; 
Staggering  onward  wildly,  blind, 
Death  was  in  the  shriveled  wind, 
All  around,  before,  behind, 

Everywhere. 

Toward  the  western  mountain  rim, 
O'er  that  waste  of  horror  dim 
That  no  artist-brush  may  limn — 

Pen  may  tell 
Of  its  desolation  dread, 
Over  vast  expanses  spread — 
Chased  each  mirage  as  it  fled. 

Till  they  fell. 

There  through  all  the  dcwlcss  years, 
Through  the  mists  of  sighs  and  tears, 
As  when  life's  last  hopes  and  fears 

Ceased  to  thrill, 

Where  the  shuddering  night-wind  moans 
With  its  faint,  expiring  tones, 
Gleam  the  bleaching,  spectral  bones 

White  and  still. 


Only  one,  with  iron  will, 
Stronger  than  his  comrades,  still 
Gained  the  far,  faint,  phantom  hill 

With  its  wall 

Stretching  onward,  far  away, 
Glaring  in  the  sun's  hot  ray, 
Towering  skyward,  hoar  and  gray, 

Bare  and  tall. 


316  Lest  Jk 

On,  with  fainting  steps  he  pressed 
Upward  toward  the  splintered  crest, 
Till  the  sun  within  the  West 

1 1 itl  his  slu-c-n, 

And  the  moon,  with  terror  white, 
r.athcd  each  awful  phantom-height — 
Cast  her  weird  and  ghastly  light 

O'er  the  scene. 

Up  and  up  his  footsteps  led 
Through  the  rocky  gorge's  bed, 
\Vhcrc  an  earthquake  bolt  had  sped 

In  its  wrath: 

What  is  that  before  his  knees 
That  his  trembling  \  cs, 

Sweeter  than  the  store  of  bees, 

In  his  path? 

In  a  narrow  fissure  reft, 

By  some  mighty  earthquake  cleft — 

Relic  of  convulsion  left — 

Slept  a  spring, 

Crystal-sparkling,  pure  and  cold, 
Veined  its  walls  with  glittering  gold, 
Ransom  fit,  in  days  of  old, 

For  a  K 

Parched,  his  hot  and  shriveled  skin, 
Fire  without  and  fire  within, 
In  hi-  ears  a  nulling  din — 

So  In-  fi-11 

Where,  with  down-thrust  finger  tips, 
I  le  could  cool  his  fevered  lips, 
the  bee  her  nectar  sips 

From  the  cell. 


The  Lost  Mine.  317 

There,  with  fierce  demoniac  glower, 
Chained  by  some  mysterious  power, 
Prone  he  groveled  hour  by  hour, 

On  the  bank ; 

To  the  night,  wild  songs  rehearsed, 
Each  one  madder  than  the  first — 
Sang  and  laughed,  and  prayed  and  cursed 

As  he  drank. 

Sated  full,  at  last  he  roce, 
Seeking  rest  and  short  repo::e, 
But  his  eyes  in  slumber  close 

But  to  ope; 

Hope's  bright  rainbow  spans  his  heart, 
As  his  fingers  clutch  and  part, 
Or,  with  fierce,  convulsive  start, 

Wildly  grope. 

Lying  in  the  moon's  soft  blaze, 

In  a  half-delirious  maze, 

What  is  that  his  trembling  gaze 

Thrills  to  sec? 

In  the  moonlight  still  and  cold, 
Gleamed  a  vein  of  virgin  gold, 
With  its  store  of  wealth  untold 

Full  and  free. 

There  he  lay  till  night  was  gone — 
Hugged  it  in  his  arms  of  brawn, 
Till  the  flushing  of  the  dawn 

Shed  its  gleam 
O'er  the  giants  in  repose, 
Looming  tall  like  tented  foes, 
And  the  glorious  sun  uprose 

Like  a  dream. 


318  The  Lost  Mine. 

Gold!  to  buy  a  kingdom's  crown, 
Gold!  to  soften  fortune's  frown, 
Gold!  down, 

Sparking  there; 

Blinding  with  its  dazzling  gleam, 
With  its  radiant  li;;ht  supreme, 
Like  some  magic,  fairy  dream, 
Bright  and  fair. 

There  in  ccstacy  all  day, 
Prone  as  worshiper  he  lay 
Gloating  o'er  lhat  dazzling  ray, 

Gleaming  bright; 
Then  his  feet  unwi  ling  tore 
From  his  precious  golden  store — 
Covered  deft  y  o'er  and  o'er 

From  the  sight. 

Blindly  wandering  toward  the  west, 
Man}'  clays  he  onward  pressed, 
O'er  the  desert's  lonely  breast, 

Vague  and  vast ; 

Wandering  blindly  round  and  round, 
Toward  the  dim  horizon's  bound, 
Till  a  hunter's  camp  he  found — 

Found  at  last. 


Vainly  sought  he  year  by  year 
Through  the  regions,  far  and  near, 
Where  the  ghastly  mountains  peer 

Through  the  ha. 

Strong,  elated  as  with  wine, 

I  I    ping  fondly  for  a  sign — 

For  the  mystic  hidden  mine 

With  its  blaze. 


Dcat/i    Valley.  319 

Yet  toward  that  phantom  shore 
Turn  his  footsteps  evermore, 
Still  he  maunders  of  his  store — 

Ever  strays — 

Where  the  treacherous  mirage  gleams; 
Vast  his  gorgeous  wayward  schemes, 
Bright  his  royal,  Croesus  dreams 

Gild  his  days. 

Still  before  the  old  man's  eyes, 
Like  a  meteor  o'er  the  skies, 
Evermore  that  glittering  prize 

Trails  its  gleam; 
Like  some  spirit  all  unbiest, 
Wandering  in  a  sad  unrest, 
With  a  memory  mad  possessed, 

Still  he  dreams. 

Still  he  haunts  the  Vale  of  Death, 
Where  the  desert's  fiery  breath 
Shrivels  all  above,  beneath, 

Like  a  hell, 

Maundering  ever  of  the  past, 
Wandering  o'er  that  terror  vast, 
Haunted  ever  to  the  last 

By  a  spell. 


DEATH  VALLEY. 


Lifeless,  hopeless,  'desolate, 
Pitiless  as  Time  and  Fate, 
Blasted  by  undying  hate. 

Like  some  shriveled  human  heart 
Pierced  by  envy's  hellish  dart, 
Scarce  of  earthly  life  a  part, 


320  Dentil    Valley. 


All  around,  above,  beneath. 
Hopeless  thirst,  despair  and  death, 
Madness  in  thy  burning  breath; 

Symbol  of  the  soul's  desires, 
Strewn  with  dust  of  funeral  pyres, 
Of  ambition's  perished  fires, 

Withering  all  that  seek  thy  ways, 
Scaring  every  human  gaze, 
Pitiless  through  all  the  days ; 

Dead  to  every  living  thing, 
Every  waft  of  plum  aged  wing, 
Kvery  sweet  caress  of  Spring; 

What  dread  secret  of  the  past, 
What  dark  terror,  vague  and  vast, 
Holds  thy  shuddering  memory  fast? 

What  convulsion  fierce  and  dread, 
When  its  mighty  throes  had  fled, 
Left  thce  desolate  and  dead  ? 

Not  upon  thy  blasted  plain 
Love  or  hate  or  joy  or  pain 
Stir  a  thrill  of  life  again. 

Smitten,  shattered  long  ago, 
Shriveled,  shrouded,  sunken  low 
Far  beneath  the  ocean's  flow ; 

Time  may  flush,  and  fade,  and  pab, 
Still,  O,  dread  mysterious  vale, 
\\  e  may  never  knuw  thy  talc. 

In  thy  ashen  grave  so  deep, 

Locked  in  death's  eternal  sleep, 
Still  thy  awful  secret  kc<  p. 


Work  and  Win.  321 

'•WORK  AND  WIN."* 

Do  your  minds  for  knowledge  yearn  ? 

Work  and  win! 
Do  your  souls  for  glory  burn? 

Work  and  win! 

Would  you  take  a  bond  of  fate, 
Enter  Honor's  golden  gate, 
Answer  "  Expectations  Great?" 

Work  and  win ! 

Do  you  long  for  honor,  fame  ? 

Work  and  win ! 
For  a  glorious,  deathless  name  ? 

Work  and  win ! 

Would  you  noblest  warfare  wage, 
Write  your  name  on  history's  page 
With  the  heroes  of  the  age? 

Work  and  win! 

Would  you  join  immortal  bands  ? 

Work  and  win! 
Dream  not,  clasp  not  idle  hands, 

Work  and  win! 
Time  is  fleeting,  life  is  short, 
Would  you  enter  glory's  court  ? 
Fritter  not  the  hours  in  sport — 

Work  and  win! 

Do  your  thoughts  to  fame  aspire? 

Work  and  wrin! 
Would  you  reach  the  summit  higher? 

Work  and  win ! 

Would  you  upward,  heavenward  climb 
To  the  shining  heights  sublime  ? 
Idle  not  the  precious  time — 

Work  and  win! 

*  Written  for  G>-eat  Expectations,  a  paper  of  the  "  Work  and  Win  Society  " 
of  the  Eighth  Street  Public  School. 
21 


322  In  Mcmoriam. 

IN  MEMORIAM. 

[JOHN  GLASS.] 

Not  dead  !  Not  lost !  Not  gone  ! 
True  father,  husband,  counselor  and  friend  ! 
Only  for  earthly  eyes  a  ray  at  end, 

As  light  of  stars  at  dawn. 

Gone  only  from  our  sight 
As  planet  'ncath  the  far  horizon's  verge; 
A  glorious,  shining,  lesser  light  to  merge 

In  an  immortal  light ! 

\Ye  feel  thy  presence  still — 
Soul-conscious  of  a  gentle,  mystic  force — 
Feel  through  our  lives  thy  spirit-influence  course 

With  sweet,  electric  thrill. 

\Vhcrc  many  a  silken  thrall 
Deft  Nature's  fairy  fingers  fondly  spin, 
Thy  loving  spirit  lingers  still  within, 

Around,  and  over  all. 

Where  the  sweet  orange  trees, 
As  brides  with  snowy  drapery  o'erspread, 
Like  incense  from  a  golden  censer,  shed 

Their  odors  on  the  breeze — 

Where  myriad  glories  bloom 
Beneath  the  glow  of  soft  cerulean  skies, 
And  wafted  odors  burden  Spring's  soft  sighs 

With  mystic,  sweet  perfume — 

Thy  loving  spirit  broods 
In  twilight  hushes,  when  the  silence  creeps 
Through  ro.-y  b  md  dewy  Nature  sleeps 

'Mid  fragrant  solitudes. 


Alcyone.  323 

With  courage  calm  and  high, 
Faith's  narrow  path  thou  trod'st,  nor  turned  aside 
From  duty's  call — as  soldier  true  and  tried 

Feared  not  to  live  or  die. 

The  cypress  droops  and  nods 
Above  thy  tomb;  thy  body,  dust  to  dust 
Returned ;  thy  spirit's  holy  faith  and  trust, 

Thy  Country's  and  thy  God's. 

As  tones  of  silvery  bell, 
Throbbing  afar  with  lingering  echo-call, 
Thy  voice's  gentle  spell  still  holds  in  thrall 

The  home  thou  lov'dst  so  well. 


ALCYONE. 


So  far,  so  grand,  so  lone,  thy  glimmering  light, 

Oh,  unrevealed  and  awful  mystery ! 
Queen  of  the  stellar  spheres  that  gem  the  night, 

Thou  rulest  in  glory,  bright  Alcyone ! 
The  burning  constellations  on  thee  wait, 

To  do  thy  grand  and  high  imperial  will, 
Like  glittering  courtiers  that  attend  thy  state, 

Proud  in  unbridled  pomp,  but  subject  still. 

In  scornful  pride  thou  keep'st  thy  queenly  place, 

Encircled  by  thy  radiant,  flashing  zone; 
Veiled  in  the  depths  of  everlasting  space — 

Eternal,  distant,  blazing,  glorious,  lone ! 
Worlds,  planets,  suns,  unnumbered  as  the  sands 

That  strew  the  mighty  ocean's  boundless  floor, 
Thick-sprinkled  far,  like  wandering  shepherd  bands, 

Bestrew  the  fields  of  space  forevermore. 


324  Pasadena— A  Pict. 

Time's  everlasting  cycles  ebb  and  flow 

In  hushed  procession,  solemn  and  sublime; 

The  worlds  are  born  and  perish,  come  and  go- 
But  what  to  thce  are  worlds,  and  space,  and  time? 

Vast  suns  'round  vaster  suns  unseen,  revolve, 
And  haply  may  the  yearning  soul  at  last 

The  awful  riddle  of  thy  mystery  solve, 
O,  central  sun  of  boundless  systems  vast ! 


PASADENA— A  PICTURE. 


Soft  breath  and  tender  sighs, 
Dim  haze  and  azure  skies ! 
And  lo  !  before  the  longing  gaze 
A  glimpse  of  Paradise  ! 

Afar,  the  ocean's  bed, 
Blue,  trembling  overhead  ! 
Beneath,  Pomona's  banquet-board 
With  countless  gifts  outspread  ! 

Here  Ceres  decks  the  plain, 
And  Bacchus,  with  his  train 
Of  purple,  vine-crowned  revelers, 
Sends  up  his  glad  refrain. 

And  Flora,  with  her  crown, 
Looks  ever  musing  down 
Through  bowers  of  soft,  eternal  Spring, 
On  slumbering  plaiirand  town. 

Behind,  the  mountain  walls! 
Deep  shade  and  waterfalls! 
A  sense  of  mystery  brooding  o'er, 
A  spell  the  soul  enthralls. 


Pasadena — A  Picture.  325 

Beyond,  the  dreamy  vale  ! 
Afar,  a  shadowy  sail, 

O'er  slumbering  seas,  'mid  quivering  haze, 
Flits  like  a  phantom  pale. 

And  vague  and  spectral  isles, 
Like  brides  through  tears  and  smiles, 
Half  hidden  by  the  trembling  veil, 
Gaze  o'er  the  watery  miles, 

Soft,  longing  toward  the  land, 
Where  skyward,  blue  and  grand, 
Far  glancing  o'er  the  sleeping  seas 
The  tall  Sierras  stand. 

In  quiet,  deep  repose 
The  orange  gleams  and  glows, 
And  round  a  thousand  happy  homes 
Fond  clings  the  clustering  rose. 

Here,  weary,  sick  and  sore, 
That  haply  seek  thy  door, 
May  stay  their  weary,  wandering  feet 
And  rest  forevermore, 

To  dream  amid  thy  flowers, 
To  muse  beneath  thy  bowers, 
Where  health,  and  hope,  and  sweet  content 
Thrill  all  thy  rosy  hours. 

With  'trancing  sight  and  sound 
Thy  fairy  courts  abound; 
With  rarest  gems,  thy  queenly  brow 
With  richest  jewels  crowned. 

Vales,  mountains,  seas  and  skies! 
Groves,  bowers  and  zephyr  sighs! 
More  fair  than  Canaan's  vision  gleamed, 
O,  Dream  of  Paradise! 


326  Decoration  Poem — 1881 

DECORATION  POEM— 1881. 


Where  comrades  soft  repose, 
With  laurel  and  with  rose, 

Wet  with  the  tearful  dew  ; 
With  violets  sweet  and  bays, 
With  thankful  prayer  and  prai-e, 
We  come  from  peaceful  ways 

Our  offerings  to  renew. 

Sleep,  noble  heroes,  sleep  ! 
The  stars  their  watches  keep, 

There  is  no  danger  nigh; 
Peace  sheds  her  silvery  light 
Through  all  the  restful  night, 
A  glow  of  glory  bright 

Broods  over  earth  and  sky. 

No  cloud  is  in  the  South, 
No  cannon  from  its  mouth 

Sends  forth  its  awful  roar; 
No  more  the  martial  feet, 
'Mid  Storm  <>f  battle  sleet, 
Spring  to  the  drum's  fierce  beat— 

War  wakes  the  land  no  more. 

No  thunder  in  the  North, 

In  muttering  tones  gives  forth 

Its  warnin  .ml  dread  ; 

No  smoke-pall  spreads  its  haze, 
No  vengeful  bat;  ize, 

But  peaceful,  quiet  days 

Around  and  overhead. 

The  battle-storm  hath  ceased; 
No  cloud  is  in  tl 

To  veil  the  gloriou^  sun; 


The  River  of  Death.  327 

No  cloud  is  in  the  West — 
Sweet  calm  and  peaceful  rest 
Broods  o'er  our  country's  breast — 
Hate's  bloody  course  is  run. 

By  fairest,  tenderest  hands, 
Through  all  the  smiling  lands, 

Your  graves  are  fondly  decked, 
Beneath  Spring's  bluest  skies, 
'Mid  May's  last  melting  sighs, 
And  tears  from  softest  eyes 

Fall  o'er  your  dust  unchecked. 

Sleep,  Comrades  of  the  Blue  ! 
Oh,  heroes  !  tried  and  true, 

There  is  no  battle-call — 
No  blast  of  bugle  shrill, 
No  cannon-boom  to  thrill, 
But  hush  and  quiet  still, 

Around  and  over  all. 


THE  RIVER  OF  DEATH. 


Far  'neath  the  haze  dimly  floweth  a  river, 
Glassy  and  still  with  its  murmurless  tide, 

Awing  the  soul  with  a  tremulous  shiver, 
Straining  its  gaze  to  the  far-hidden  side 

Veiled  in  oblivion's  shadow  forever: 

Chartless  as  fathomless,  soundless  as  wide. 

Never  a  signal  bell  calls  to  the  hearer, 
Never  a  beacon-light  glimmers  or  burns, 

Lighting  its  mystery  cfearcr  and  clearer, 
Never  a. sailor  that  mystery  learns. 

Many  embark  on  its  smooth,  glassy  mirror, 
Never  a  soul  from  the  journey  returns. 


328  Tay  Bridge. 

Yet,  when  the  brain  from  life's  sore  indecision 

teth  and  fa>t!y  in  slumber  is  scaled, 
Cometh  bright  flashes  of  lightning  clysian, 

Glimpses  of  glory  and  splendor  revealed; 
Fading  as  spectres  that  flee  in  derision, 

Swift  when  the  blast  of  life's  bugle  is  pealed. 

Only  when  life's  panorama  is  shifted, 

Melting  from  view  like  a  vision  dissolved, 
ling  away  'ncath  the  horizon  drifted, 
Jn  the  dim  ha/<-s  eternal  involved — 

Only  at  last  shall  the  curtain  be  lifted, 

Rent  the  thick  veil,  and  the  mystery  solved. 


TAY  BRIDGE. 


Northward,  through  the  shades  of  night, 
Swept  the  train  with  steadfast  flight 
Tli rough  the  peaceful  Bordcr-lar, 
Where  no  more  the  warring  bands 
Stand  defiant,  High  and  Low, 
Foot  to  foot  and  foe  to  foe. 

What,  though  shrieked  the  blinding  storm? 
Youthful  hearts  heat  high  and  warm. 
But  a  little  lessening  space 
Soon  should  love  with  love  embrace. 
. 

afj 

• 

ming  souls  and  waiting  t 
All  that  makes  life's  living  sweet — 
All  the  mystic  li<-s  that  bind 
Human  In;  it  t<>  human  kind. 


Tay  Bridge.  329 

But  a  rumble  and  a  crash, 
But  a  glimmer  and  a  flash, 
Through  the  mist-wreathed,  Lowland  plain^ 
Came  the  rushing  midnight  train, 
Where  the  iron  trackway  swerves 
'Round  the  hills  in  sweeping  curves, 
Fleeing  through  the  darkness  on, 
Like  a  spectre,  seen  and  gone. 

On  toward  Scotland's  kingly  seat, 
Rushed  the  train  through  storm  and  sleet 
Onward,  with  defiant  roar, 
Till  it  reached  the  hither  shore; 
And  before  them  yawning  lay 
Wide  the  black  abyss  of  Tay. 
Onward,  through  the  shuddering  gloom, 
Swept  the  dreamers  to  their  doom, 
Hovering  over  Death's  dark  sea, 
Trembling  o'er  eternity — 
Then  a  plunge  of  mute  despair, 
Trembling  but  an  instant  there, 
Hopeless,  voiceless,  helpless  they, 
And  the  waters  claimed  their  prey. 
Not  a  shriek,  or  curse,  or  prayer, 
Rose  upon  the  midnight  air ; 
Dream  and  hope  and  life  were  o'er, 
Swallowed  up  forevermore, 
Till  the  awful  judgment  day, 
In  the  depths  of  cruel  Tay. 

Where  the  treacherous  current  rolls, 

Sleep  three  hundred  perished  souls; 

Not  a  ghastly  traveler  pale, 

Left  to  tell  the  fearful  tale 

With  his  awed  and  trembling  breath, 

Of  that  midnight  train  of  death. 

Ye  that  in  your  quiet  homes, 

In  the  twilight  shades  and  gloams, 


33O  \-ant1nan  Rcrcl 

Hear  the  water's  shuddering  plash, 
Or  the  tempest's  awful  crash, 
And  within  the  circle  warm, 
Listen  to  the  howling  storm 
Safe  beside  your  blazing  coals, 
Think  of  all  these  perished  souls! 
Pitying  reader,  pause,  and  pray 
For  the  souls  that  sleep  in  Tay. 


ALEXANDRIAN   REVEL. 


Swiftly  glides  life's  rapid  river, 
Fragrant  lilies  sigh  anil  quiver, 
Roses  bloom  and  fade  forever, 

Rainbows  melt  and  pass  away; 
Trip  bright  youth's  fond,  wayward  measure, 
Sip  red  lips'  rich  nectar  treasure, 
the  butterfly  of  pleasure — 

Life  is  but  a  Summer  clay. 

Love's  fair  sun  is  brightly  gleaming, 
Beauty's  rays  are  softly  beaming, 
Waken  not  the  soul's  fond  dreaming, 
Laugh  at  danger  while  we  m 
1  of  trouble's  store  to  borrow, 

Lightly  je-t  and  scoff  at  son- 

,  ill  come,  perchance,  to-morrow — 
hill  brooding  care  away. 

Heed  not  morn's  swift  steps  advanci; 
Mock  old  Time  with  <!  dancing, 

are  hrkjn' 

ught  but  pleasure  here  holds  sway  ; 
Rules  his  court,  our  King  and  Master, 
Spreads  1  k  and  vaster, 

Swiftly  circle,  fast  and  fa 
Chase  dull  <  ay,  awav  ! 


Dying  Summer.  331 

DYING  SUMMER. 


Soft  hazes  veil  the  sun, 

The  Autumn  winds  are  sighing ; 
The  Summer  days  are  done, 

Their  glory  fading,  dying. 
Low  shivers  in  the  air, 

Sobs,  sudden  ceasing,  starting; 
A  tremor  everywhere, 

As  soul  from  body  parting. 

Sad  Nature  fondly  grieves 

As  mourner  lowly  bending, 
O'er  withered  flowers  and  leaves 

No  more  in  glory  blending. 
Between  sweet  life  and  death, 

The  thread,  how  frail  and  slender  ! 
When  falls  the  frost-king's  breath, 

How  vanish  strength  and  splendor ! 

But  Spring-time,  with  her  train 

Of  glitter  and  of  glory, 
Shall  come  and  tell  again 

Her  olden,  tender  story ; 
With  sighs  and  sweet  perfume, 

With  dcwdrops  on  her  lashes, 
And  roses  shed  their  bloom 

O'er  Autumn's  dust  and  ashes. 

The  seasons  in  their  sway — 

How  like  to  joy  and  sorrow  ! 
The  clouds  may  shroud  to-day, 

The  sunshine  gild  to-morrow. 
How  like  the  days  of  men, 

The  sun  of  life  forsaking; 
A  little  sleep,  and  then 

To  glory  fresh  awaking  ! 


Lasf  Chance. 
LAST  CHANCE. 


[THE  PROSPECTOR'S  STORY.] 

Nestled  low  \vhcrc  the  peaks  pierce  the  steely  expanse, 
Like  a  dream,  fading  slow,  lies  the  camp  "of  Last  Chance, 
busy,  now  dead  to  Life's  swift,  gushing  springs, 

•f  old  Egypt's  proud  Pyramid  Kings. 
Shall  I  tell  you  its  story,  its  hopes  and  its  fears  ? 
The  talc  of  its  glory,  its  sii;hs  and  its  tears  ? 
Its  dream  of  ambition,  its  rise  and  its  fall  ? 
Ah  !  the  story  of  one,  is  the  story  of  all ! 
Like  magic  creations  they  spring  in  a  day, 
Then  sicken  and  perish  and  rot  in  decay — 

C  Camp-Cities,  springing  like  sudden  mushrooms, 
That  fatten  and  flourish  and  die  with  the  "booms." 
They  come  like  the  whirlwind,  and  melt  like  a  breath; 
Around  them  but  solitude,  silence  and  death  ! 
Like  white-sheeted  spectres,  tall  giants  arise 
And  glare  into  space  with  their  pitiless  eyes; 

sound  save  the  far  booming  avalanche  roar, 
That  brc  he  thunder  of  seas  on  the  shore; 

all  of  the  bugle,  no  carol  of  bird, 
No  life-pulsing  throb  in  the  silence  is  heard; 

re  of  the  snow-sheeted  sheen — 
No  motion  enlivens  the  death-haunted  scene, 

C  the  phantom-like  breath,  that  at  midnight  faint  stirs 
The  star-jeweled  crowns  of  the  low-moaning  firs; 
No  waving  of  hands,  save  of  wrath-b  ;.;ns, 

When  storms  toss  the  arms  of  the  turbulent  pines 
That  sadly,  eternally,  wistful 
Their  feet  on  the  mountain,  their  heads  in  the  sky. 

We  dream  we  arc  steadfast;  a  year  or  a  day — 
l.ut  only  a  little,  we  tarry  an 

from  plague-smitten  cities  we  turn  us  and  flee; 
Such  is,  and  has  been,  and  will  evermore  be 


Last  Chance.  333 

The  pitiless,  stern,  inexorable  fate, 
When  drained  of  their  treasure-gifts,  sooner  or  late, 
Of  all  the  bright  phantoms  that  beckon  and  shine — 
These  magic  creations  and  myths  of  the  mine ; 
We  turn  from  them  mournfully,  leaving  them  all 
To  wild  beasts  that  raven,  and  reptiles  that  crawl. 

But  what  of  that  "prospect,"  and  finding  the  same  ? 

It  was  poor  Charley  Saunders  who  gave  it  the  name. 

We  were  partners,  we  three,  "  Grizzly  Bob/'  he  and  I, 

And  started,  determined  to  strike  it,  or  die. 

It  was  March,  and  the  snowy  Sierra  loomed  tall 

Across  the  dim  East,  with  its  far-flashing  wall. 

We  fastened  our  snow-shoes,  and  strapped  on  our  packs, 

Our  blankets  and  tools,  and  our  "grub"  on  our  backs. 

Up  treacherous  canyons,  o'er  dizzy  divides, 

Through  tangle  of  fir-trees,  down  swift  icy  slides, 

'Ncath  pinnacles  tottering,  day  after  day, 

'Mid  danger  we  kept  on  our  perilous  way, 

Till  scaling  the  face  of  the  battlement  tall, 

The  wide  world  beneath  us,  we  triumphed  o'er  all. 

We  stood  on  the  summit:  what  sight  of  amaze, 
'Neath  our  fear-shrinking  feet,  met  our  terrified  gaze ! 
Down,  down^  through  the  shuddering  voidness  it  fell 
To  a  bottomless  gloom  like  a  vision  of  hell  ! 
On  the  opposite  cliff  slept  the  sun's  dying  sheen, 
Vague,  fathomless  depths  of  the  canyon  between, 
But  up  from  its  shadowy,  deathly  repose, 
No  sound  through  the  phantom-like  stillness  arose; 
And  down  to  the  depths  where  the  dim  shadows  lay, 
By  footsteps  untrodden,  seemed  never  a  way; 
Yet  we  must  go  forward;  'twas  death  to  turn  back, 
And  death  beckoned  grimly  before  in  our  track. 

Just  then  we  heard  Charley  shout  loud  in  advance, 
"I've  found  it !  come  on,  boys;  hurrah !  the  last  chance  !" 
Then  saw  him  reel  wildly,  and  clutch  at  the  snow, 
And  helplessly  glide  toward  the  shadow  below ; 


334  IMS*  ( 

And  saw  him  plunge  down,  with  a  sinking  of  breath, 

Down,  down  ti>  abysses  of  horror  beneath  ! 

All  vainly  we  listened  for  stru^lc  or  sound, 

But  never  a  cry  broke  the  silence  around; 

We  called  down  the  steeps  of  his  swift,  dizzy  track, 

But  ni  lost  of  an  echo  came  back! 

I  low  we  got  do\vn  it,  did  it,  I  never  can  tell; 
At  last  to  the  bottom  we  tumbled  and  fell 
'Mid  fierce,  frantic  clutching,  and  swift  headlong  drive, 
Bruised,  mangled  and  bleed ii  1  than  alive. 

\Yc  hunted  for  Charley  and  found  him  at  last 
Held  fa  4  by  some  croppings,  dead,  mangled  and  ghast ! 
Slow,  painfully  creeping,  we  there  made  our  bed 
t  side  by  side  sl<  the  living  and  dead. 

We  woke  in  the  morning — chill,  hungry  and  sore, 
Dead  eyes  glaring  on  us,  dark  cliffs  frowning  o'er; 
r.ut  thinking  in  sadness  to  bury  away 
In  the  grave's  peaceful  slumber,  our  comrade's  cold  clay, 
We  strove  with  our  sharp  willing  picks,  for  a  space 
In  the  rock's  flinty  bosom  to  open  a  place. 
A  blew  given  aimlessly- — wa  M? — 

'.Mid  white,  fractured  crystals  a  da/./Je  and  gleam  ! — 
There,  close  to  the  face  staring  whitely  and  cold, 
The  prize  of  our  longing — the  glitter  of  gold  ! 
The  dream  of  Aladdin  !  and  long  in  a  trance, 
Forgetful,  we  stood  by  our  prize  of  Last  Cha 

Time  sped  but  a  little,  and  there  was  a  town; 

And  roads  zigzag  winding,  crept  upward  and  down, 

Slow  climbing,  and  cleaving,  and  clinging  'mid  space, 

As  dizzy  with  fear  to  the  cliffs  rocky  face. 

All,  all  like  a  dream  !  crumbling  slow  in  decay, 

'1  he  dim  fading  picture  you  see  there  to-day. 

With  Summer,  bold  prospectors  came  from  afar, 

As  the  shepherds  that  followed  bright  Bethlehem's  star; 

Came  whispers  of  trea  -ure,  and  rumor  of  gold, 

And  fast  came  the  worshipers  eager  and  bold. 


Sunset.  335 

There  were  swagger,  and  blindness,  and  craze  of  the  mine, 
And  riot  and  revel,  and  madness  of  wine; 
Came  swift  from  all  quarters,  the  foolish  and  sage, 
Rash  youth's  reckless  daring,  and  wisdom  of  age. 

The  months  brought  the  chill  of  October's  keen  air, 
And  doubt,  disappointment,  defeat  and  despair — 
Brought  little  to  comfort,  and  little  of  gold, 
But  presage  of  sorrow,  and  Winter,  and  cold. 
A  little,  and  lo !  there  was  stillness  and  hush 
As  broods  over  earth  at  the  day's  dying  flush; 
No  echo  of  footsteps;  deep  silence  o'erhead, 
All  voiceless  and  lifeless,  deserted  and  dead  ! 

And  what  of  the  ledge  of  whose  treasures  I  spoke  ? — 
Went  back  on  us,  "  petered,"  and  left  us  flat  broke  ! 
It  was  but  a  pocket;  a  bright,  empty  dream, 
Illusive  that  dazzled  and  flashed  with  its  gleam, 
Like  the  false  desert  mirage  that  lures  with  its  glare, 
It  beckoned;  we  followed  and  reaped  but  despair. 
Ah  me !  how  we  scoff,  and  denounce  with  a  will 
These  false,  fleeting  phantoms,  and  follow  them  still ! 


SUNSET. 


[IN    MEMORIAM—  HENRY    W.    LONGFELLOW.] 


Life's  bright  day  of  glory  past — 

Toll  the  bell ! 
Sunset  hush  and  glow  at  last ! 

It  is  well ! 

Dies  at  eve  thy  lingering  gleam, 
Melts  thy  brightness  like  a  dream 
In  the  zenith's  depths  supreme — 

It  is  well ! 


336  A  bore  tJic  Clouds. 

ABOYF.  THE  CLOUDS. 

[DEDICATED  TO  Tin.  M  i  j«»sr.ni  HOOKI.R.] 

Bold  irickcn  low  in  death, 

Thy  flight  is  ended  now  ! 
Around  thy  form  with  b;itcd  breath 

And  .silent  tears,  we  bow. 
We  know  thy  spirit,  free  and  proud, 
In  glory  soars  above  the  cloud. 

When  peril  thrilled  the  Nation's  life 

Through  all  its  breadth  and  length, 
High  o'er  the  fierce  tumultuous  strife 

.ultant  in  thy  strength, 
Thy  scream  rang  out  o'er  hill  and  plain, 
Amid  war's  deadly  hurricane. 

Free  and  untamed,  O,  peerless  King! 

Lord  of  an  empire  wide, 
Fierce  of  the  eye  and  strong  of  wing, 

No  clouds  thy  sun  might  hicjc; 
Thy  path  was  where  ih  rashcd, 

\Yhcrc  thunders  rolled,  and  lightnings  Hashed. 

Above  war's  maddened,  rushing 
When  combat  shook  the  world, 

Tl  '1  fierce  with  joy-  .in, 

Where  thunderbolts  were  hurled, 

And  gazed  with  fixed  unblcnching  stare 

On  vivid  war's  red  lightning  glare-. 

Amid  the  darkr  ir  and  d 

Of  bat  le, 

On  Lookout's  cloud-palled  awful  steep 

\Yc  watched  thy  pinions  fade 
And  vanish  'mid  the  -loom  of  r 
To  i 


Sierra  Madres.  337 

Though  lost  thy  form  to  mortal  view 

In  vast  Eternity; 
Through  skies  of  soft  ethereal  blue 

We  know  thy  spirit  free, 
Still  upward  wings  its  tireless  flight 
Toward  the  blazing  throne  of  light 

Thy  pinions  folded  on  thy  breast 

No  more  earth's  storms  may  dare; 
Bold  ruler  of  the  tempest  rest 

Beyond  the  lightning's  glare  ! 
Far,  far  above  earth's  loftiest  steep, 
King  of  the  Storm,  thy  eyrie  keep  J 


SIERRA  MADRES. 


[A   VIEW    FROM    SAN    GABRIEL.] 


Eternal,  towering,  hushed,  supremely  grand  ! 

'Mid  trembling  haze  of  softest,  bluest  skies, 
Ye  lift  above  the  slumbrous,  dreamy  land — 

Soft-kissed  by  raptured,  wandering,  zephyr  sighs. 
Beneath  your  feet  a  glimpse  of  Paradise 

Glimmers  and  fades  afar  on  either  hand, 
Where  luscious  plenty,  steeped  in  languor  lies 

'Ncath  rose- wreathed  bowers,  by  spicy  breezes  fanned 

Beside  the  boundless  ocean's  gleaming  strand. 

Lo  !  Everlasting  as  His  awful  throne 

Ye  loom  forever  o'er  the  pigmy  world, 
Enthroned  in  kingly  purple,  silent,  lone, 

With  banners  far  above  the  clouds  unfurled. 
In  vain  the  tempests  in  their  wrath  have  swirled 

Their  sleety  storms  around  your  star-gemmed  zone; 
Their  dizzy  hosts  are  broken,  shattered,  hurled 

Through  swooning  depths,  contemptuous  downward  thrown 

'Mid  yawning,  black  abysses,  and  are  gone! 


338  M'c/ciwic  to  l:rancc. 

Encircling  far,  with  cordon  vast,  complete, 
Ye  stand  in  line  like  battle-marshaled  hosts; 

Awed  in  your  conquering  presence,  it  is  meet 
Proud  man  should  cease  his  weak,  vain,  idle  1> 

We  come  and  go,  but  ye  shall  keep  your  posts 
Forevermore  'mid  storm  or  Summer's  heat, 

To  watch  and  guard  the  slumbering,  sighing  coasts 
That  bask  in  blissful  dreams  of  glory  sweet, 
Low  at  your  flower-embroidered,  queenly  feet ! 


WELCOME  TO  FRANCE* 

Thunder,  O,  batteries  !  Welcome,  O,  France ! 

Let  the  deep  echoes  o'crburdcn  the  wind ; 
Bright  in  the  sunshine  of  Liberty's  glance, 

Shimmer  the  emblems  of  glory  entwined. 

Fling  the  twin  banners  from  turret  and  crest! 

Cheers  from  the  depths  of  the  heart  of  the  land 
Roll  like  the  thunders,  from  East  to  the  West — 

Echo  and  break  on  the  Occident  strand  ! 

From  the  far,  faint  Alleghany's  blue  line 

To  the  Sierra's  long  glittering  chain, 
Swell  the  hosannas  from  city  and  mine; 

Thunders  the  welcome  from  Texas  to  Maine. 

Friend  in  our  fricndlcssness,  tarry  and  n 

First  in  all  greatness,  all  science  and  arts! 
Liberty's  champion,  Liberty's  guest, 

t  in  our  homes,  our  affections  and  hearts ! 

Over  the  banners  of  glory  entwined, 

Trembles  the  blue  of  the  boundless  expanse; 

Let  the  glad  welcomings  burden  the  wind ! 
Dip  the  bright  Stars  to  the  Lilies  of  France ! 

•Written  on  the  occasion  of  the  Centennial  Celebration  of  the  Surrender  of  Yorktown, 
October  19,  1881. 


Welcome  to  France.  339 

Wander  with  us  in  our  sun's  golden  light, 

Dream  of  our  future  dim,  spreading  and  vast, 

Haloed  with  glory  effulgent  and  bright, 
JPonder  with  us  on  the  present  and  past. 

Lift  from  the  landscape  a  century's  pall ; 

Lo  !  the  long  lines  of  the  battle  array ! 
Ships  to  the  batteries  thunder  and  call — 

Leap  the  red  lightnings  in  war's  wrathful  play. 

Here  but  for  yc,  had  our  valleys  been  drenched 

Red  with  the  blood  of  a  sacrifice  vain — 
Liberty's  light  at  its  dawning  been  quenched, 

Never  to  glimmer  and  beckon  again. 

Here  brave  De  Grasse  with  his  cordon  of  ships, 
Keeping  his  watch  o'er  the  tremulous  tide, 

Belches  his  hate  from  his  guns'  iron  lips — 
Hurls  his  red  bolts  in  the  might  of  his  pride. 

Here  in  this  parallel,  bold  Rochambeau 

Under  the  pall  of  the  smoke-spreading  haze, 

Crouched  like  a  lion,  and  stormed  at  the  foe 
Keeping  his  lair  'neath  his  batteries'  blaze. 

Here  Lafayette  with  his  legions  of  might — 
Liberty's  champion,  knight  without  stain, 

Waited  impatient,  and  chafed  for  the  fight, 
Under  the  storm  of  the  death-pelting  rain. 

Here,  where  our  Washington  marshaled  his  strength, 

Folding  the  foe  in  his  meshes  at  last, 
Kept  ye  unbroken  the  lines'  iron  length, 

Holding  the  tyrant  in  hopelessness  fast. 

Strengthened  to  manhood  by  trial  and  time, 
What  is  our  present,  and  what  we  may  be, 

Now  in  the  flush  of  our  youth's  budding  prime, 
Brothers,  compatriots,  look  ye,  and  see ! 


34O  <  me  to  \ 

r  the  mountains  and  over  the  plains, 
Time's  laggard,  snail-creeping  pace  is  outrun; 
Ocean  to  ocean  is  linked  with  the  chains, 
Binding  our  lands  and  our  peoples  as  one. 

Empires  on  empires  in  infinite  train 

Spread  through  the  space  of  the  fading  degrees; 
Gazing  afar  o'er  the  limitless  main, 

Laving  their  feet. in  the  uttermost  seas. 

Golden  the  fields  of  the  wide-spreading  \Y 
Stretching  away  to  the  set  of  the  sun, 

Plenty  and  peace  on  her  limitless  breast — 
Only  a  step  in  our  journey  begun. 

White  with  her  cotton,  the  fields  of  the  South 
Bask  in  the  sunshine  and  beckon  afar — 

Strong  in  Hope's  consciousness,  proud  in  her  youth, 
Bright  as  the  gleam  of  the  soft  morning  star. 

Refuge  to  victims  of  Tyranny's  thrall, 

cc  and  good-will  to  all  nations  of  earth; 
i-dom,  Kquality,  Justice  to  all — 
The-e  arc  the  rights  and  the  fruits  of  our  birth. 

Welcome  and  cheers,  like  the  thunder's  deep  thrill, 

Echo  and  roll  through  the  depths  of  the  sky; 
Cannons  make  answer  from  valley  to  hill ! 

t,  North  and  South  with  each  other  outvie  ! 

Fling  the  twin-banners  from  turret  and  wall  ! 

Let  the  bright  pageant  the  senses  cntrai 
Drums  wake  the  echoes,  and  bugles  make  call  I 

Thunder,  ( )  cannon,  a  welcome  to  France! 


"  God's  Country  " — California.  341 

"GOD'S  COUNTRY"— CALIFORNIA. 


Where  is  the  land,  of  all,  the  best 
Beloved  of  Him  who  rules  the  skies? 

In  North  or  South,  or  East  or  West 
The  favored  Eden-land,  where  lies, 

To  tempt  the  weary  soul  to  bliss 

With  fairest  flowers  and  softest  kiss? 

Not  'mid  old  Asia's  mouldering  wastes, 
Not  India  with  her  Brahma-ban, 

Where  pride-besotted,  lustful  castes 
Look  down  upon  their  brother  man; 

Not  China  with  her  groveling  crowds 

That  pall  the  earth  like  threatening  clouds. 

Not  where  the  Crescent's  baleful  sign 
O'crgleams  the  dozing  Syrian  shore; 

Not  withered,  palsied,  Palestine, 

Her  strength  and  glory  are  no  more  ; 

Hushed  are  her  fountains'  pulsing  flow— 

His  smile  departed  long  ago. 

Not  where  hot  Afric's  dusky  hosts 

In  everlasting  darkness  dwell 
Along  her  fever-haunted  coasts, 

Or  by  the  lonely  desert  well, 
Nor  where  old  Egypt's  mummies  keep 
Their  everlasting  secrets  deep. 

Not  where  blanched  Europe's  serried  tents 

Menace  with  battle-wrath  the  soil, 
And  lustful  landlords  wrincr  their  rents 

o 

From  wretched,  starving  sons  of  toil; 
Not  by  the  castled,  German  Rhine, 
Or  Loire's  soft  bosom,  wreathed  with  vine. 


34-  "  Gods  Country  " — California. 

Not  where  the  mighty  Amazon 
A  flowery  Empire  ever  luvcs, 

Resistless  flowing  ever  on 

To  mingle  with  the  ocean's  waves, 

Nor  where  the  Pampas  vague,  outspread, 

Vast  as  the  sea's  lone,  level  bed. 

Not  where  the  stern  old  Plymouth  Rock 
Frowns  o'er  the  stern  old  Pilgrims'  graves, 

Immovable  to  meet  the  shock 

Of  bleak  Atlantic's  vengeful  waves, 

Not  where  the  North's  cold,  icy  breath 

Makes  life  one  long,  grim  war  with  death. 

Not  where  the  firefly  lights  the  gloom 
Miasmic  of  the  cypress  swamps, 

And  pallid  wanderers  meet  their  doom    . 
Amid  the  hush  of  Southern  clamps; 

Where  panthers  prowl  with  velvet  paws, 

And  saurians  wait  with  open  jaws. 

\Youldst  thou,  O  weary  wanderer,  rest 
Where  softest  zephyrs  ever  blow  ? — 

Seek  thou  the  Garden  of  the  \\ 
\Yhcrc  golden  fruits  of  glory  glow 
Actual  in  His  gracious  smile, 

Uncurs'd  by  cunning  serpent-guile. 

here,  \\herc  ever  looking  down 
Through  mystic  veil  of  purple  haze, 
The  tail  Sierras  with  their  crown 

Of  glittering  snows  forever  blaze ; 
Where  winds  are  soft  and  skies  arc  blue 
From  Yuina's  sands  to  Siskiyou. 

Land  lit  by  light  of  love  divine, 

O  gem  in  golden  circle  set ! 
Land  of  the  olive  and  the  vine, 


Whip-Poor-  Will.  343 

The  fairest  land  that  ever  yet 
Was  praised  by  any  mortal  tongue, 
By  painter  limned,  or  poet  sung ! 

No  languor  of  the  tropic  zones 

Thy  sons  and  daughters  lull  to  sleep  ; 

No  Borean  blasts,  or  dread  cyclones 

Thy  vine-wreathed  bowers  and  vales  o'crsweep; 

But  health  and  strength  and  happiness 

The  homes  of  all  thy  children  bless. 

O,  chosen  spot  of  Nature's  God  ! 

Thy  coming  grandeur  who  shall  tell  ? 
Unsmitten  by  His  chastening  rod, 

Here  shall  all  grace  and  glory  dwell; 
And  deathless  minstrels  yet  to  be, 
Shall  sing  of  thee,  shall  sing  of  thee  ! 


WHIP-POOR-WILL. 


When  the  hush  falls  still  and  deep, 

And  all  nature  seeks  repose, 
And  the  sighing  zephyrs  sleep, 

And  the  dew  is  on  the  rose, 
And  the  shivering  twilight  damp, 

Shrouds  the  landscape's  vernal  bloom, 
And  the  firefly's  fitful  lamp 

Flickers  vaguely  through  the  gloom ; 
Like  some  weary  heart  in  pain, 
Then  I  chant  my  weird  refrain — 

"Whip-poor-will!  whip-poor-will !" 
With  its  ceaseless  mournful  plain — 

"Whip-poor-will !  whip-poor-will !" 

With  its  lonesome  measure  still, 
Sad  recurring  oft  again. 


544  XfSi—The  Queen  of  the  Angels— iSSi. 

\  It.\v  it  haunts  the  silence  deep 

\Yith  its  plaintive,  mournful  thrill! 

Like  n  '.iat  cannot  sleep — 

"Whip-poor-will  !  Whip-poor-will  !" 

How  the  accents  wail  and  die, 

Like  some  hopeless  spirit's  cry  ! 
Drifting,  drifting  from  the  sight, 
Through  the  shuddering  gloom  of  night; 

the  tainting  echoes  fall, 
Dying  on  the  darkness  still, 

Like  some  sou'/  ilring  call — 

"Whip-poor-will  !  whip-poor-will  !" 


1781— THE  OUF.KX  OF  Till-:  ANGELS— 1881.* 

A  hundred  A  fairy  talc — 

A  lonely  land,  a  dreamy  vale, 
Ment,  silvers',  sighing  sea 
d  by  a  gleaming  sail! 

A  plain  unmarked  by  mete  or  bound, 
Summc  ir.brosvncd, 

,.th  the  trembling  haze, 
Unbroken  solitude  around. 

Afar,  uprcaring  skyward,  tall, 
Lncircling  blue,  a  mighty  svall, 

Stern  sentries  looming  dim  and  vague —   • 
The  mountains  watching  over  all. 

!>ea»:«»n-l!a  h  upon  the  >i;.;ht, 
A  '::iid  gloom  of  night, 

A  ray  of  b:  d  glosv, 

A  spirit  born  to  earthly  light. 

•  Written  .  n  the  Centtanial  of  the  founding  of  the  City  of  Los  Angeles,  September  5,  «88i, 


— The  Queen  of  the  Angels — 1881.  34$ 

Caressed  and  kissed  by  every  breeze 
Borne  from  the  yearning  coral  seas, 

Thy  cradle  watched  by  angel  hosts, 
Fond  dandled  on  thy  Padres'  knees. 

'Neath  tender  skies  of  azure  sheen 
Where  Nature  ever  smiles  serene 

On  dreamy  vale  and  mirror  tide — • 
Fair  was  thy  natal  morn,  O,  Queen ! 

Anon,  beside  thy  crystal  stream, 
Thy  fair  face  mirrored  in  the  gleam ; 
Where  roses  flush  and  lilies  bloom 
We  see  thee  stand  as  in  a  dream. 

The  years  go  by,  and  to  and  fro 
Their  tide-like  cycles  come  and  go, 

And  like  the  ocean's  ceaseless  tides 
Life's  changeless  currents  ebb  and  flow. 

The  matin  call  and  vesper  bell 
That  echo  far,  and  sink,  and  swell, 
And  melt  away  in  cadence  sweet, 
Of  holy  love  and  guidance  tell. 

O'er  flowery  mesas  far  away 
The  herds  in  lusty  gladness  play, 

And  crop  the  verdure  soft,  the  while 
December  smiles  like  wanton  May. 

The  careless,  lithe  vaquero  speeds 
O'er  swelling  hills  and  grassy  meads, 

Or  hurls  his  trusty  lasso  where 
The  tufted  tule  waves  its  reeds. 

A  trance  unbroken,  save  when  hosts 
Of  savage  foes,  like  midnight  ghosts, 
To  rude  dispel  thy  maiden  dreams, 
Steal  seaward  from  their  mountain  posts. 


346  ijSi—TJic  Qnccn  of  the  A ngcls— iSSi. 

Then  clang  of  steel  and  gleam  of  lance ; 
The  trumpet's  blast,  the  sabre's  glance 
That  tell  of  danger's  presence  nigh, 
Awake  thec  from  thy  tender  trance. 

At  last,  in  strength  and  flush  of  pride, 
\Yith  eagle  glance  and  lordly  stride, 

A  mail-clad  knight,  with  ardent  ki  3, 
Impatient  claims  thee  for  his  bride. 

And  queenly  in  thy  ripened  charms, 
No  more  to  start  at  vague  alarms, 

Safe  in  his  watchful  guardian  love, 
Thou  restest  in  his  sheltering  arms. 

Sweet  floats  thy  song  upon  the  breeze, 
Borne  to  thy  home  o'er  tropic  seas ; 

Glad  is  thy  smile  of  matron  pride, 
And  children  cluster  'round  thy  knees. 

Afar,  the  distant,  yearning  lands, 
O'er  burning  wastes  of  desert  sands, 
In  friendship's  longing,  fond  desire 
To  greet  thcc,  stretch  their  jeweled  hands. 

The  seas  are  white  with  snowy  sails 
Swift  winging  on  with  favoring  gales, 

To  bear  thy  lovers  in  their  haste- 
Impatient  to  thy  vale  of  vales. 

The  mocking-bird,  amid  thy  bowers, 
Sings  through  the  sweet,  enchanted  hours, 

And  all  the  gliding  steps  of  Time 
Are  fettered  by. a  chain  of  flowers. 

Soft  pearls  bedeck  thy  bosom  fair, 
And  diamonds  light  thy  glorious  hair ; 

Sweet  music  lulls  thy  blissful  H 
And  floats  upon  the  listening  air. 


"Life  is  but  a  Dream"  347 

Thy  children's  spreading  homes  around 
In  teeming  fruitfulness  abound, 

And  all  thy  courts  and  flowery  ways 
Ring  out  Centennial's  joyous  sound. 

O,  Mother-Queen!  with  gifts  complete, 
The  gliding  years  of  life  are  sweet, 

And  sweet  and  soft  the  vernal  days 
That  strew  their  garlands  at  thy  feet. 

And  still  thy  loving,  yearning  glance 
O'ersweeps  the  smiling,  broad  expanse 
Of  flowery,  vine-clad,  fruitful  plain- 
On,  tender  dream  of  fond  romance ! 


"LIFE  IS  BUT  A  DREAM."* 


Life  is  but  a  dream, 
Fading,  fickle,  fleeting, 
Filled  with  fancies  bright, 

Baseless  visions  thronging; 
But  a  mirage  gleam 

Beckoning,  luring,  cheating; 
Melting  from  the  sight, 
With  its  glint  of  longing. 

Evanescent,  gone 

With  its  flush  of  glory, 
With  its  quivering  blaze 

Fierce,  or  faint,  or  tender; 
Like  the  stars  at  dawn, 
Like  the  bright  Aurora, 
Melting  from  the  gaze 

Like  the  rainbow's  splendor. 

*  Written  at  suggestion  and  request  of  a  friend. 


TT] 


348  "Life  is  but  a  Dreamt 

Like  the  fading  dyes, 
Still  that  ever  vary, 
Of  the  sunset  rays 

Mirrored  on  the  river, 
Haunting  evening  skies 
Dazzling  momentary, 
Like  the  lightning  blaze, 
Seen  and  gone  forever. 

Fading  every  scheme, 
Mocking  with  confusion, 
Lingering  but  a  span, 
Fleeing  in  derision; 
Life  is  but  a  dream, 
But  a  brief  illusion, 

Ended,  scarce  begun — 
But  a  changeful  vision. 

the  dcwdrop's  beam 
Glittering  in  the  morning, 

lows  fly 
O'er  the  mirror-river; 

As  the  lightning's  gU-am 
Dying  with  its  wan 
:cf  as  zephyr' 
Heard  and  gone  forever. 

Melting  into  gloom 

Like  the  meteor  trailing 
Through  the  ni  ' ciul 

In  the  sl  .icnding; 

se's  bloom 

.md  pali 

h  and  fragrance  fled 
the  Summer's  ending. 


Yucca.  349 


Like  the  vapory  cloud 
With  its  filmy  brightness 
Floating  o'er  the  meadow, 
Drifting  o'er  the  stream; 
Gleam,  and  pall,  and  shroud, 
Essence  of  all  lightness — 
Man  is  but  a  shadow, 
Life  is  but  a  dream. 


YUCCA.* 


Bride  of  Spring  arrayed  in  white, 

Spirit  of  ethereal  light 

Gleaming  on  the  mountain  height, 

In  thy  veil's  soft,  snowy  sheen, 
Gazing  like  some  glorious  Queen 
O'er  the  landscape's  vernal  scene; 

Like  some  maiden  fair  and  tall, 
Spell-bound  by  Love's  tender  thrall 
Listening  for  some  mystic  call ; 

Daughter  of  the  doting  years, 
Bride  of  April  smiles  and  tears 
That  but  song  of  triumph  hears, 

Blissful  dreamer  of  a  day, 
Type  of  Beauty's  swift  decay, 
Soon  thy  bloom  shall  pass  away! 

Soon  shall  fade  thy  bridal  wreath — • 
Melting,  even  as  a  breath, 
And  thy  glory  sleep  in  death. 

*This  glorious  queen  of  flowers  in  the  Southern  California  landscape,  at  present  in  full 
bloom  upon  our  mountain  slopes,  as  is  well  known,  requires  three  years  in  coming  to  maturity  ere 
sending  up  its  tall  flower-stalk,  and  after  a  brief  and  brilliant  reign  of  about  one  month,  fades  and 
dies,  never  to  bloom  again. 


3  50  />///  — 


But  a  memory  shall  remain. 
And  thy  Sifter's  fairy  train 
Soon  shall  take  thy  place  again. 


ERIN— 1880* 


O,  Land  of  the  longing  desire  ! 

O,  Land  of  the  shamrock  and  lyre ! 

Sad  ended  and  hushed  is  thy  song; 
The  flush  of  thy  Springtime  is  fled, 
Thy  children  are  crying  for  bread, 

Thy  talc  but  a  triumph  of  wrong. 

All  pallid  and  white  are  thy  lips, 
As  white  as  the  sails  of  the  ships 

Of  England  that  shadow  the  seas; 
The  harp  of  thy  singers  that  thrilled, 
In  faintncss  and  sorrow  is  stilled — 

Tin-  wine-press  is  drained  to  the  lev-. 

Thy  blood  has  been  shed  as  the  rain; 
Thy  strength  has  been  wasted  in  vain, 

To  pamper  the  purple  one's  pride; 
I  Icr  roses  have  budded  and  bloomed 
With  glory  of  crimson  illumed; 

Thy  shamrocks  have  withered  and  died. 

O,  Erin!  in  emerald  sheen, 

N  •  >  more  o'er  the  seas  as  a  queen 

Thou  gazcst  in  pride,  as  of  yore; 
The  vultures  thy  death-throes  await, 
The  wolf  keeps  his  guard  at  thy  gate, 

The  dream  of  thy  glory  is  o'er. 

•Written  by  request  of  an  Irishman. 


Eve.  35! 


EVE. 

Tremble  the  shadows  in  twilight  repose, 
Shivers  the  rose ; 

Quiver  the  stars  in  the  firmament's  deep; 
Whisper  the  zephyrs  'mid  tangle  and  bower; 
Rest  for  the  weary,  and  dew  for  the  flower — 

Vision  and  sleep. 

Mystical  music  and  quaver  of  sound 
Floating  around, 

Lull  the  faint  senses  with  Lethean  spell ; 
Soothing  the  spirit  with  somnolent  kiss, 
Soft  flitting  fairies,  fond  legends  of  bliss 

Whisper  and  tell. 

Birds'  dreamy  warble  and  insects'  faint  trill 
Quiver  and  thrill ; 

Far  through  the  depths  of  Infinity's  space, 
Languid  the  stars  twinkle  faint  in  the  skies, 
Soft  looking  down  with  their  love-laden  eyes 

Angels  of  grace. 

Rises  the  moon  in  her  glitter  and  sheen — 
Night's  gracious  queen  ; 

Gilding  with  silver  the  far  mountain  chain, 
High  rearing  vainly  her  progrqss  to  bar, 
Flooding  in  glory  and  splendor  afar 

Valley  and  plain. 

Cloud-shadows  loitering  over  the  grass 
Dreamily  pass; 

Fade  like  a  vision  life's  wearisome  schemes, 
Melting  like  mists  of  the  morning  away — 
Respite  and  rest  'ncath  the  tremulous  ray — 

Slumber  and  dreams. 


otj  2  From  Sea  to  Sea. 


FROM  SEA  TO  SKA. 

Dreamer,  haunted  by  a  vision 

Of  an  earthly  paradise; 
Verdant  vales  and  fields  clysian, 

Blooming  flowers  and  balmy  skies  ; 
Of  a  land  where  Love  reposes, 

Dreaming  but  of  tender  bliss 
On  his  fragrant  couch  of  roses, 

Fanned  by  zephyr's  gentlest  kiss; 
Of  a  valley  softer,  fa! 

Than  the  vale  of  far  Cachmcrc ; 
Be  in  all  its  gifts  a  sharer, 

Seek  and  find  it,  only  here. 

Come  away!  The  fairies  beckon 

To  the  ever-blooming  bowers 
\Vherc  the  tendrils  twine  and  thicken, 

Burdened  with  their  gifts  of  flowers. 
Ilitlu  r  hastjn!  leave  bleak  Winter 

With  his  chilling  ice  and  snows 
For  a  land  he  may  not  enter, 
1  in  dreamy,  soft  repose, 
s  the  iron  courser  cham] 

For  the  word  that  sets  him  : 
From  the  curb  restraining,  cramping, 

For  the  race  from  sea  t(  > 

"  Forward!  "  with  a  snort  and  quiver 

Springs  the  steed  with  joyful  scr 
Over  plain  and  hill  and  riv 

Flashing  like  a  meteor's  gleam; 
plung::.  .ling  onward  madly 

Like  the  rushing,  roaring  wind, 
Leaving  Winter's  thraldom  gladly, 

Snow  and  ice  and  death  behind, 


From  Sea  to  Sea.  353 

Never  tiring,  never  weary, 

Leaping  o'er  the  mountain-bars, 
Through  the  canyons  dark  and  dreary, 

'Neath  the  light  of  sun  or  stars. 

Ghastly  deserts — glaring,  tragic, 

Shriveled!  blasted!— What  is  this? 
Presto!  change!     What  spell  of  magic 

Weaves  this  metamorphosis? 
Is  it  but  a  mirage  cheating, 

But  a  promise  false  as  fair? 
But  a  baseless  vision  fleeting, 

Luring  with  its  treacherous  snare? 

Lo!  a  landscape  fair  as  Eden 

Spreading,  fading  into  space  ! 
Zephyrs  soft,  with  fragrance  laden 

Kissing  blooming  Nature's  face. 
Where  the  tender  grass  is  springing, 

Mantling  earth  with  vivid  green, 
Lambs  are  bleating,  birds  are  singing 

Under  skies  of  azure  sheen. 

Here  may  longing  souls  immortal 

Fruits  of  Life  and  Knowledge  claim ; 
Guards  no  angel  stern  the  portal 

With  his  threatening  sword  of  flame. 
Ah!  how  vague,  and  faint,  and  shimmery, 

Eastern  scenes  and  seasons  seem!  * 

Winter!  It  is  but  a  memory— 

But  a  fading  nightmare  dream. 

Here  in  "frosty  hoar  December," 

Lilies  nod  and  roses  swoon, 
Lulled  in  peaceful,  happy  slumber 

As  upon  the  breast  of  June; 
w 


354  From  Sea  to  Sea. 

Here  the  heliotrope  bloom-laden 
All  the  sweet,  long  season  through, 

Like  a  blissful  love-tranced  maiden, 
Lifts  her  tender  eyes  of  blue. 

Mirrored  in  the  crystal  fountain, 
Dreamy  bowers  in  rapture  gaze, 

Bending  sky,  and  hoary  mountain, 
Drooping  flower,  and  purple  haze. 

Here  the  broad  bananas  shiver, 
1     And  the  tall  and  stately  palm 

Waves  its  wand  beside  the  river 
In  the  fragrant  air  of  balm. 

Glossy-vestured,  bending  over 

Whispering  to  the  sighing  rose, 
Like  a  blissful  happy  lover, 

Lo!  the  golden  orange  glows! 
Here  the  song  of  Love  and  Pleasure 

Nature's  throbbing  bosom  thrills, 
And  the  mocking-bird  his  measure 

To  his  mate  ecstatic  trills. 

What  is  this  far  gleaming,  darkling 
'Neath  the  dim  horizon's  haze, 

Like  a  mirror,  flashing,  sparkling 
In  the  sunset's  golden  blaze? 

Lo!  Pacific  rapt  in  seeming 
*      .         Slumber,  soft  as  skies  o'crhcad  ; 

Placid  as  an  infant  dreaming 
In  its  cushioned  cradle-bed! 

Here  in  bowers  of  living  glory 

Youth  and  Strength  eternal  cling; 

Clustering  as  in  olden  story 

Round  De  Leon's  fabled  spring. 


To  a  Humming-bird.  355 

Seeker  for  youth's  fountain  longing, 

Here,  O  weary  wanderer,  rest, 
'Mid  earth's  brightest  glories  thronging 

In  the  Eden  of  the  West. 


TO  A  HUMMING-BIRD. 


Beautiful  fairy  !  how  bright  to  behold  ! 
With  swift-flashing  pinions  of  azure  and  gold. 
Glittering  and  gone  like  some  fairy-land  dream, 
Vanishing  quick  as  the  lightning's  swift  gleam, 
Evermore  cleaving  through  Summer  air,  fleet, 
Evermore  leaving  a  sweet,  for  a  sweet, 
Thrilling  the  rose  with  a  vision  of  bliss, 
Stilling  each  flower  with  a  kiss  for  a  kiss, 
Murmuring  to  every  sweet  blossom,  of  love, 
None  are  too  lowly,  and  none  are  above. 
Coming  with  whisperings  tender  and  glad, 
Leaving  earth's  flower-queens  lonely  and  sad — 
Ripened  September  and  sweet-blooming  May, 
Lover  inconstant,  away,  away  ! 

When  the  bright  sun  glimmers  low  on  the  sea, 
Sweet  honeysuckles  are  sighing  for  thee ; 
Still  do  they  sigh  for  thee  when  thou  art  gone, 
Through  the  long  night,  till  the  coming  of  dawn. 
Dreamily  under  the  light  of  the  moon, 
Silken  petunias  shiver  and  swoon; 
Fond,  pouting  fuchsias  shrink  deep  in  the  gloom, 
Heliotropes  faint  in  their  fragrant  perfume; 
Violets  blue-eyed,  droop  low,  half  afraid, 
Lilies  shrink  sad,  like  a  maiden  betrayed — 
Stealing  the  sweets  from  each  flower's  deep  cell, 
Lover  inconstant  and  fickle — farewell ! 


"Exempt: 


-EXEMPT." 

[Written  for  the  Reunion  in  honor  of  the  Los  Angeles  Exempt  Firemen, 
April  3,  1879.     Read  by  G.  A.  Dobinson,  E«q.  1 

Fire!   Fire!  Fire! 

Climbing,  curling,  crackling,  creeping, 
Flashing,  flaming,  lapping,  leaping, 
Rolling,  roaring,  raging,  sweeping 

Fierce  o'er  dome  and  spire ; 
Maddened  as  the  mad  sea  waves, 
Sweeping  to  their  shrieking  graves 
Trembling  suppliants,  shuddering,  weeping, 
To  the  awful  ocean  caves. 

Sudden  as  the  lightning's  flash, 
Fierce  the  charging  squadrons  dash; 
Ringing  shout  and  trumpet  blare 
Wake  the  trembling  midnight  air. 
Through  the  outworks  bursting,  rending, 
Ceaseless  volleys  swiftly  sending, 
Sternly  hand  to  hand,  contending 
On  the  red  field— storm  and  crash. 

Lo!  the  flaming  tongues  of  fire 
Yield  to  arms  that  never  tire, 
Fitful  Hashing,  fading  still, 
Conquered  by  a  stronger  will, 
See!  they  smoulder,  sobbing,  sighing, 
Hero-strength  no  more  defying, 
Humbled,  sinking,  fainting,  dying, 
Sullen  in  the  gloom  expire. 

Storm-bron/.cd  veterans,  battlcd-scarrcd ! 
Heroes  of  the  "Old  Time  Guard!" 

Honor-laden,  dream  and  rest, 
By  a  grateful  City  blest! 


Poem. 

Glory- sated,  sleep  and  dream 
In  the  light  of  love's  bright  gleam; 
May  no  envious  "false  alarms," 
Break  the  links  of  love's  soft  charms. 
Dream,  exempt  from  toil  and  care, 
May  no  lurid  midnight  glare, 
Spreading  wide  its  crimson  dyes, 
Red  illume  the  peaceful  skies : 
May  no  clanging  midnight  bell, 
Sudden  tale  of  danger  tell ; 
Lulled  in  beauty's  gentle  arms, 
Dream,  exempt  from  all  "alarms." 


357 


POEM. 

[Respectfully  Dedicated  to  the  Teachers  of  the  Los  Angeles  Public  Schools.     Read 
at  the  Reception  by  Mr.  S.  H.  Butterfield.] 

Laborers  in  life's  fields  of  learning, 
Virgin  soil  to  light  upturning, 
Sowing  seed  of  knowledge  broadcast 

O'er  the  world's  wide,  fallow  ways ! 
Burdened  heads  are  swiftly  rearing — 
Still  in  duty  persevering, 
Yet  with  patience  firm  and  steadfast 
"Wait  the  glorious  harvest  days." 

Work  and  wait  a  little  longer 
Till  the  shoots  arc  taller,  stronger, 
Labor  ever  ceaseless,  zealous, 

Lest  the  Evil  spread  his  snares ; 
Sleep  not  while  the  wheat  is  growing, 
Ever  watchful  care  bestowing 
Guard  the  fields  of  knowledge,  jealous 
Lest  dark  Error  sow  his  tares. 


358  Poem. 


Watch  the  buds  of  understanding 
Swelling,  bursting,  soft  expanding 
Into  leaf,  presaging  glory 

In  the  coming  years  to  be; 
Various  each  in  form  and  splendor, 
Lowly,  loft\-,  haughty,  tender, 
Telling  each  its  mystic  story — 

Fern,  and  flower,  and  vine  and  tree 

Some,  as  lordly  oaks  down-stooping, 
Some,  as  graceful  willows  drooping; 
Some,  like  tender  flowers  half- fearing, 
Some,  the  clinging,  trailing  vine; 
Shrinking  some,  and  opening  slowly 
As  the  violet,  meek  and  lowly ; 
Some  their  lofty  heads  uprcaring 
As  the  storm-defying  pine. 

Guardians  of  the  present  winging — 
Of  youth's  tender  shoots  upspringing, 
Loving  care  and  high  ambition 

All  your  efforts  still  attend  ! 
And  the  golden  fruit  shall  cluster, 
Gleaming  soft  with  mellow  lustre 
In  the  coming  time's  fruition, 

When  the  boughs  full-laden  bend. 

Lo !  afar  the  day  is  breaking, 
Earth  to  quickened  life  awaking, 
Flashing  where  the  dcwdrop  sparkles, 
Spreading  far  its  gorgeous  dyes; 
Speed  the  light  of  knowledge  quickly  1 
Let  its  rays  fall  fast  and  thickly, 
Till  its  halo  earth  encircles 

As  the  rainbow  spans  the  skies ! 


"  Thanksgiving?  359 

"THANKSGIVING." 


[Written  for  the  Thanksgiving  Entertainment  of  the  Christian  Church, 
and  read  by  Rev.  Mr.  Bovard.] 


Thou  to  whom  vast  space  is  nothing,  earth's  long  centuries  as 

days, 
Hear  our  prayerful  words  of  homage,  hear  our  songs  of  thanks 

and  praise ! 

Thou  hast  borne  us  on  to  glory  as  are  ships  o'er  ocean's  tides ; 
Thou    hast  clothed  us  with  a  splendor  as  are  radiant,  jeweled 

brides. 
Dream  our  vales  where  rosy  Plenty  slumbers  with  her  sister, 

Peace ; 
Lie  our  flocks  in  sweet  contentment,  burdened  with  their  fat 

increase ; 
'Neath  our  groves  with  clusters  laden,  rest  we  in  the  pleasant 

shade, 

With  no  foe  to  sore  molest  us,  none  to  taunt  or  make  afraid ; 
Clothed   in  silken  pomp  and  purple,  never  shone  so  bright  a 

sheen, 
Where  the  Nile  his  tribute  rendered,  'round  the  brow  of  Egypt's 

Queen; 
Lulled  by  Fame's  soft,  siren  story  where  the  Orient  stars  look 

down, 

Never  blazed  so  bright  a  glory  round  Zenobia's  jeweled  crown! 
Conquering,  and  still  to  conquer,  never  proud  Semiramis 
Tranced  beneath  Assyria's  splendor,  dreamed  of  Empire  such  as 

this! 

Lo  !  the  famine-stricken  nations  lift  to  us  imploring  hands  ! 
God,  we  thank  Thee,  that  Thou  lov'st  us  better  than  all  other 

lands ! 

Fair  as  Eden's  bloom  primeval  is  our  pleasant  dwelling-place ; 
With  full  hearts,  O  God,  we  thank  Thee,  for  this  Garden  of  Thy 

Grace  ! 


360  Shakespeare. 

Not  in  fear  and  trembling,  shrinking  as  the  Christian  shrank  of  old, 
Not  'ncuth  stripes  and  torture  sinking,  steadfast  to  the   faith  we 

hold; 

Not  'mid  woe  and^dcstitution  meet  we  here  Thy  name  to  praise; 
Not  through  bloody  persecution  lead  our  broad,  divergent  ways; 
Not  'mid  jeers  and  sore  reviling  hear  we  forth  the  Cross  of  scorn, 
Ours,  the  victor-crown  of  roses,  not  the  taunting  crown  of  thorn. 
Fierce  Intolerance  no  longer  here  his  fevered  rage  may  slake; 
Bigot  Hate  no  more  may  kindle  flame  to  sate  the  fiery  stake. 
Learning's   mystic,   mighty  .  forces,    Hate's   dark   dungeon-door 

uiiba 

Sweeping  onward  in  their  courses,  silent  as  the  march  of  stars. 
As  a  fount  of  waters  living,  laving  soft  the  mountain's  feet, 
Wells  our  triumph  of  Thanksgiving  with   a  murmur  low  and 

sweet. 

Thou  that  rul'st  the  constellations,  flaming  nightly,  hear  our  song; 
Keep  us  still  'mid  Time's  mutations;  we  are  weak,  but  Thou  art 

strong  ! 

Man  is  as  the  blossom  vernal,  soon  his  reign  of  glory  o'er; 
But  Thy  strength  endures  eternal,  limitless,  l<  .iv\  ermorc  ! 

when  mouldered  and  forgotten,  perish  all  the  dreams  of  lust 
Thine  shall   be  the  crown  and  sceptre  when  earth's  thrones  ;uv 

trodden  du.st ! 


SHAKESPEARE. 


Great  king  of  ki: 
Sublime,  eternal  in  thy  majesty, 
Lo  !  at  thy  sacred  feet,  weak,  pigmy  things, 

\Vc  bow  to  thee. 

To  thee  was  gi\ 

All  strength  and  knowledge,  empire  over  souls; 
mysteries  of  earth,  ;iir,  hell  and  heaven 
Are  written  scrolls. 


Shakespeare.  361 

The  shrouded  springs 
Of  human  hearts,  are  but  as  history, 
And  all  men's  dreamings,  and  all  hidden  things 

Are  bared  to  thee. 

To  thee 

Thrones  are  but  playthings,  crowns  and  sceptres,  toys; 
Thou  tramplest  empires  and  they  cease  to  be 

When  fancy  cloys. 

The  Earth's  fixed  sphere 
Rocks  to  its  deep  foundations  at  thy  call — 
Thrones,  palaces,  and  castles  disappear, 

And  vanish  all. 

Thy  minions  leap 

As  soldiers  to  the  battle-stirring  drum ; 
Thou  callest  spirits  from  the  vasty  deep, 

And  lo!  they  come. 

Thou  frown'st,  and  the  world 
Is  earthquake-rocked,  the  tempests  have  release  ; 
Thou  smilest,  and  the  tempest  flags  are  furled 

And  all  is  peace. 

Unseen,  unfelt, 

"The  cloud-capped  towers"  that  kiss  the  vaulted  skies, 
"  Like  baseless  fabrics  of  a  vision  "  melt- 
As  rainbow  dyes. 

At  thy  command 

Dim,  dreamy,  glorious  vistas  stretch  away; 
The  tempests  sink  before  thy  wizard  wand, 

And  night  is  day. 

Earth's  proudest  falls, 
And  counselors  surrender  up  their  trust 
At  thy  behest,  and  haughty  Cardinals 

Lie  low  in  dust. 


362  Shakespeare. 

Before  thy  magic  touch, 
Back  from  the  buried  past  the  ages  roll, 
And  show  us  damning  deeds  of  horror,  such 

As  daunt  the  soul. 

Before  thy  potent  spell 
Long-sepulchred,  forgotten  spirits  rise, 
And  tales  of  blood  and  horror  shuddering  tell 

With  hollow  eyes. 

Time's  misty  darkness  flees — 
The  spirits  of  earth's  mighty  ones,  long  fled, 
With  us  hold  converse,  and  the  sullen  seas 

Give  up  their  dead. 

The  world's  heroic  ones 

Come  thronging,  round  us,  at  thy  magic  call — 
The  chivalry  of  France,  great  England's  sons, 

Greeks,  Romans,  all. 

Grim  warriors,  visored,  capped, 
All  armed  and  mailed,  go  forth  to  mortal  strife, 
And  clay-cold  ashes,  century-enwrapped, 

Start  forth  to  life. 

The  mighty  dead 

Spring  up  to  fight  once  more  on  Crcssy's  plain; 
And  England's  warring  Roses,  white  and  reel, 

Bloom  once  again. 

Like  thunder-cloud 

Great  Henry  bursts  upon  the  Gallic  shore; 
And  bloody  Richard,  in  his  ghostly  shroud, 

Stalks  forth  once  more. 

With  bated  breath, 
We  see  the  bloody  dagger  in  the  air; 
And  horror-haunted,  murder-dyed  Macbeth 

Stands  in  despair. 


Shakespeare.  363 

Aghast,  amazed, 

We  see  great  Duncan  on  his  bloody  bier; 
And  fierce,  ungrateful  Goneril,  and  crazed 

And  crown  less  Lear. 

In  awe  and  doubt 

We  hear  the  elements'  deep  thunders  roll, 
Nor  half  so  fierce  the  tempest's  rage  without 

As  in  his  soul. 

I 

In  death's  deep  gloom 
We  see  pale  Romeo  cold  and  silent  lie ; 
And  gentle  Juliet  from  the  friendly  tomb. 

Comes  forth  to  die. 

And  dark  Othello  leaps 

With  hell-born,  raging,  jealous,  flaming  eyes; 
And  murdered  Desdemona  sweetly  sleeps — 

Love's  sacrifice. 

We  see  old  Shylock's  rage, 
Deprived  of  vengeance  and  the  forfeit  flesh; 
And  lovely  Portia's  cunning,  disengage 

The  law's  strong  mesh. 

In  wayward  grooves 

Mad  Hamlet's  wild,  fantastic  grief  appears ; 
And  sweet  Ophelia's  piteous  madness  moves 

Our  souls  to  tears. 

Proud  Cleopatra's  smile 

Flashes  upon  us  like  some  dazzling  dream — 
False,  fickle,  fair  enchantress  of  the  Nile, 

A  meteor's  gleam. 

Stern  Romans  stand 
Within  the  Capitol's  high-pillared  halls; 
They  gather  'round  thee,  and  at  thy  command 

Great  Caesar  falls. 


364  Sliakcspeare. 

False  Cressida, 

And  beauteous  Helen,  fatal  bane  of  Troy, 
And  Troilus,  like  a  lion  whelp  at  bay — 

Fond,  reckless  boy, 

Rise  on  our  sight 

And  vanish  like  the  Summer  clouds.     Anon, 
gorgeous  "dream"  of  fairy  revels,  bright, 
And  brief,  and  gone. 


The  nations  bow 

In  awe-struck  wonder  at  portents  sublime, 
And  gaze,  and  turn,  and  then  forget,  but  thou 

Hast  stirred  all  time. 

As  night  by  stars  o'erglcamed, 
A  glory  to  our  life  thy  thoughts  impart; 
And  more  than  mortal  ever  thought  or  dreamed, 

Thou  wast  and  art 

Thy  genius  darts 

Bright  with  the  gems  of  spoliated  time; 
Thou  reignest  o'er  our  weak,  unstable  hearts, 

Supreme,  sublime. 

Great  central  sun  ! 

Through  boundless  space  thy  radiant  glories  shine, 
Nor  darkest  corner  of  the  earth  may  shun 

Thy  light  divine. 

Still  shall  thy  da/zling  ray 
Illume  the  darkness  on  Time's  farthest  shore, 
And  glory's  beams  immortal  round  thee  play 

Forcvcrmorc ! 


ROUGHNESS." 


HUMOROUS  AND  SEMI-HUMOROUS, 


ROUGHNESS.' 


HUMOROUS  AND  SEMI-HUMOROUS  POEMS, 


OUR  PARTY  AT  "MURDERER'S  BAR." 


Men  came  afar  to  "  Murderer's  Bar," 

The  room  was  full  of  jesting; 
Six  "  gals  "  were  there,  with  frizzled  hair, 

The  scene  was  interesting. 

And  sixty  men — one  "  gal  "  to  ten — 

With  boots  outside  their  trousers, 
No  dandies  fine,  to  sip  their  wine, 

But  healthy  mountain  rousers. 

There  were  "  Grizzly  "  Green,  from  "  Lost  Ravine," 

And  Dick  and  Ned  Trevannion; 
And  "  Brick  "  and  "  Pet "  came  from  "  You  Bet," 

And  Cox  from  "  Secret  Canyon." 

There  were  Charley  Spence,  from  "  Common  Sense," 

From  "  Brandy  Flat "  came  Potter, 
And  "  Slippery  "  Sims,  from  "  Yankee  Jim's," 

And  "  Port  Wine  "  sent  Drinkwater. 

There  were  Jones  and  Waite,  from  "  Devil's  Gate," 
And  Smith,  the  "Wild  Cat's"  foreman; 

And  "Woolly"  White,  from  "Hell's  Delight," 
And  William  Park,  from  "  Poorman." 


368  Our  Party  nt  "Murderers 

Then  "Virgin  "  Vance  came  from  "  Last  Chance," 
And  "  Pike"  from  "Ground  Hog's  Glory;" 

And  "  Rip  "  and  "  Buck,"  from  "  Nip  and  Tuck," 
And  "  Bloody  Run  "  sent  Story. 

And  "  Irish  Pat."  from  "Poker  Flat," 

Came  up  to  see  the  rally; 
And  "  Limber"  Lent,  from  "Nigger  Tent," 

And  "  Yank  "  from  "Onion  Valley." 

There  were  "Gassy"  Champ  from  "Roaring  Camp," 
And  "Chuckle-Head,"  of  "Gopher;" 

And  "Mary's  Lamb,"  from  "Yuba  Dam," 
And  "Lazy  Bones,"  from  "Ophir." 

And  "Red  Top"  Lee  from  "Cherokee" 
Was  there  in  raiment  showy; 

And  "Hangtown"  sent,  to  represent 
HIT  chivalry,  Jim  Bowie. 

And  "Old  Ben  Bolt,"  gay  as  a  colt, 

And  festive  Robert  Riddle, 
And  "Bmv  Leg"  Brown,  from  "  Fiddletown," 

Came  down  to  play  the  fiddle. 

All  like  a  rose,  their  new  store  clothes 
With  sweet  perfumes  were  scented ; 

Our  boys  were  thar,  and  "Murderer's  Bar" 
Was  ably  represented. 

High  hung  the  goose;  fast  flowed  the  juice 

Of  "Navy  plug  tobacker," 
Till  Tom  let  loose  a  perfect  sluice 

On  Mike,  the  big  bullwhackcr. 

Then  Michael  swore,  and  ripped  and  tore, 

And  war.tcd  satisfaction; 
Called  Tom  McCann  no  first-class  man, 

But  only  a  back-action. 


Our  Party  at  "Murderer's  Bar"  369 

Then  Thomas  rose,  and  set  his  nose 

Up  in  the  latest  fashion, 
With  one  neat  pass,  sent  Mike  to  grass, 

And  that  cooled  down  his  passion. 

The  fiddlers  now  kicked  up  a  row, 

It  really  was  so  funny; 
They  would'nt  go  and  draw  a  bow, 

Until  they  got  their  money. 

Then  Charley  Spence  he  took  offense, 

And  called  them  bilks  and  diddlers; 
And  said,  ah,  well !  that  place  called  hell 

Was  full  of  just  such  fiddlers. 

Then  "Old  Ben  Bolt,"  for  little  "Colt," 

Went  quickly  down  prospecting; 
And  said  that  same  damned  swindling  game, 

Was  what  he'd  been  expecting. 

The  powder  fizzed,  the  bullets  whizzed, 

The  shootists  danced  and  capered ; 
To  dodge  the  lead,  each  ducked  his  head — 

A  dozen  men  were  peppered. 

Then  Charles  cried,  "Cease,  let  us  have  peace!" 

The  pistols  still  were  smoking — 
And  Ben  allowed,  he'd  treat  the  crowd, 

And  call  it  only  joking. 

Gay  was  the  scene,  and  Brown  and  Green 

Went  round  refreshments  handing, 
Till  Green  he  paused,  which  somehow  caused 

A  slight  misunderstanding. 

Brown's  face  turned  red,  and  Green  he  said, 

He'd  better  try  to  shove  him ; 
No  little  squirt,  with  white  "biled"  shirt, 

Should  put  on  airs  above  him. 

24       i 


3/0  Our  Party  at  "Murderers 

Then  Brown,  he  said  he'd  put  a  head 

On  Green  to  keep  him  quiet; 
And  Green  he  smiled,  like  infant  mild, 

And  said  he'd  better  try  it. 

And  then  he  said  he'd  punch  the  head 

Of  Brown,  for  recreation ; 
And  Green  hit  Brown,  and  knocked  him  down, 

Which  caused  a  slight  sensation. 

Then  "Irish  Pat,"  from  "Poker  Flat," 

Pitched  into  Sam,  the  bully, 
And  said  he  was  a  "Nagur,  shure," 

Because  his  head  was  woolly. 

Then  "Rip"  and  "Tare"  went  at  it  square, 
And  "Tare"  got  Ripley  under, 

And  held  him  there,  fast  by  the  hair, 
And  gouged  his  eyes  like  thunder. 

Then  Dave  and  Jim,  they  took  a  whim, 

And  pitched  into  each  other; 
And  Dave  shot  Jim,  and  settled  him, 

And  kissed  him  for  his  mother. 

Then  Smith  and  White  got  in  a  fight, 

And  fought  like  all  creation 
Till  Smith  on  White  performed  a  slight 

Caesarean  operation. 

A  gentle  thrill,  the  dancers  fill, 
A  crowd  around  them  gathers ; 

And  White  laid  still,  and  made  his  will, 
And  slept  beside  his  fathers. 

****** 

The  lamps  shone  bright,  the  "gals"  got  tight, 
The  daylight  came  advancing, 

And  "Big  Joe"  Clark  and  Billy  Park, 
Monopolized  the  dancing — 


AsJimead.  371 

Till  William  Park  made  some  remark 

That  Joseph  deemed  too  tarty; 
He  just  turned  loose,  and  cooked  his  goose, 

And  that  broke  up  the  party. 

We  all  felt  proud  the  jovial  crowd 

Enjoyed  themselves  so  hearty. 
It  was,  as  every  one  allowed, 

A  most  successful  party. 


ASHMEAD.* 

And  is  it  over  then,  indeed, 

Ashmead, 

The  longing  days  of  ice  and  cream, 
Fond  Hymen's  bright,  celestial  gleam, 
Cold,  cold  and  perished  Love's  young  dream, 

Ashmead  ? 

Oh  !  have  they  brought  it  all  to  naught, 

Ashmead  ? 

Two  souls  with  but  a  single  thought 
That  blissful  ease  in  Hymen  sought —     * 
Such  wreck  and  ruin  have  they  wrought, 

Ashmead  ? 

And  did  that  blushing  virgin  rest, 

Ashmead, 

Her  willing  head  upon  thy  breast, 
Upon  thy  wildly  throbbing  vest, 
And  was  that  form  with  ardor  pressed, 

Ashmead  ? 

*  Written  upon  reading  the  cablegram  that  the  proposed  marriage  between  Mr.  Ashmead 
Bartlett,  aged  about  25,  and  Lady  Burdett-Coutts,  aged  70,  had  been  broken  off  by  outside 
interference. 


372  AshmcacL 

Oh  !  were  your  pleadings  all  in  vain, 

Ash  mead  ? 

How  could  they  sever  true  Love's  chain, 
When  fell  her  tears  like  crystal  rain  ! 
How  could  they  view  such  cruel  pain, 

Ash  mead  ? 

And  wilt  thou  go  to  heal  thy  sores, 

Ashmcad, 

To  fight  against  those  savage  Boers  ? 
1  Or  search  for  Afric's  diamond  stores  ? 
Or  delve  'mid  Tombstone's  glittering  ores, 
Ashmcad  ? 

Oh  !  do  not  throw  thyself  away, 

Ashmcad, 

And  perish  in  the  deadly  fray,  • 
Or  go  and  hide  thy  head  and  pray, 
And  count  thy  beads  like  Friar  gray, 

Ashmead  ! 

Yet  nevermore  upon  this  earth, 

Ashmcad, 

'Mid  scenes  of  revelry  and  mirth, 
Though  others  tempt  with  noble  birth, 
Canst  thou  forget  her  sterling  worth, 

Ashmead. 

'Tis  sad  to  hear  the  marriage  bell, 

Ashmcad, 

Toll  trustful,  true  Love's  funeral  knell, 
Dissolving  rude,  the  tender  spell ! 
Sic  transit  gloria!      Furc-thcc-wcll, 
Ashmead  ! 


Fact  vs.  Science.  373 

FACT  vs.  SCIENCE.* 


They  say  our  crust  is  slowly  cooling ! 
What  sickly,  sentimental  mewling; 
What  everlasting,  blank  tomfooling  ! 

And  here  it's  getting  hot  and  hotter, 
Until  our  reeling  senses  totter, 
And  ice  is  turned  to  tepid  water. 

From  lofty  cope  to  deep  foundation 
Our  dead-walls  drip  with  perspiration, 
And  men  remark,  " —  and  damnation  !" 

Or  other  something  quite  expressive, 
In  tone  and  manner  all  aggressive, 
Then  melt  together,  coalescive. 

The  fat  man  seeks  a  nook  to  find  him, 

To  loose  the  garment's  bonds  that  bind  him, 

And  leaves  an  oily  trail  behind  him. 

The  mercury,  as  upward  toiling, 
With  wrathful  rage  is  fiercely  boiling — 
To  burst  its  bonds  is  fairly  spoiling, 

And  men  of  high  and  low  condition, 

From  minister  to  politician, 

Make  oath  with  frequent  repetition — 

In  tuneful  limp  accord  together, 

Like  cocks  o'ercome,  with  drooping  feather, 

"This  is  the  hottest  spell  of  weather  !"  i 

Oh,  for  some  term  of  stern  decision — 

Of  forcible,  exact  precision, 

Not  found  within  the  New  Revision, 

*  Camilla  Flammarion  and  other  scientists  say  :     "The  earth's  crust  is  slowly  but  surely   cool« 
ing."     For  confirmation  of  this  theory,  witness  the  frantic  ebullitions  of  the  thermometer  recently. 


374  Conic   Where   Your  Love  Lies  Dreaming. 

That  bears  a  proper,  true  relation 
To  broiling,  roasting  and  cremation, 
To  emphasize  the  situation  ! 


COME  WHERE  YOUR  LOVE  LIES  DREAMING* 
[A  WILD(E)  AESTHETIC  INVOCATION.] 

Come  and  sec  us,  Oscar,  do! 
We  arc  dreaming  but  of  you! 
We  are  lonely  (boo!  hoo!  hoo!) 

Come  and  heal  our  anguish. 
Pink  of  all  perfection  sweet, 
Lily,  sunflower,  rose  ass-thetc, 
Come,  O  come!  we  do  entreat, 

Leave  us  not  to  languish. 

All  our  sighing,  southland  girls 

Long  to  deck  your  flowing  curls 

With  their  flowers  and  things  and  pearls, 

(Pity,  O  Adonis!) 
Long  that  too-too  thing  to  sec 
(What-you-call-it)  round  your  knee— 
That  ass-thctic— (tc!  he!  he! 

Pardon,  mercy  on  us!) 

At  the  very  thought  of  that— 
Breeches,  stockings  and  cravat- 
All  their  hearts  go  pit-a-pat, 

Wild(c)  with  palpitation; 
Mystic  longings  thrill  them  thro; 
Oh,  have  pity,  (boo,  hoo,  hoo!) 
Come  and  sec  us,  Oscar,  do! 

Soothe  our  desperation. 

•  Written  upon  the  reception  of  telegram  from  Oscar  Wilde  that  he  would  only 
visit  Los  Angeles  upon  a  guaranty  of  $500. 


Dam(n)  the  Debris.  375 

DAM(N)  THE  DEBRIS. 


Oh,  dam(n)  the  Yuba  and  the  Bear, 

And  dam(n)  their  worthless,  old  debris ; ' 

We  often  dammed  them  everywhere 
In  Fifty-one,  and  -two,  and  -three, 

And  did  it  boldly,  I  allow, 

So  where's  the  harm  in  d — ning  now. 

I  mind  me  of  the  weeks  of  toil, 

And  how  we  laid  the  bed-rock  bare, 

To  meet  with  disappointment's  foil, 

And  found  no  trace  of  treasure  there — 

No  need  of  engineers  had  we 

To  help  us  dam(n)  the  blank  debris. 

I  know  we  differ  in  our  views 

On  schools,  monopolies  and  rings; 

Sec  different  things  in  different  hues — 
Religion,  politics  and  things; 

Yet,  on  one  point  we  all  agree 

To  dam(n)  that  riotous  debris. 

Although  we  think  it 's  hardly  fair 
To  call  on  us  to  help  you  through, 

By  all  means  dam(n)  the  treacherous  Bear, 
And  dam(n)  the  festive  Yuba,  too; 

No  longer  let  them  riot  free ; 

Corral  their  wild,  untamed  debris. 

We  differ  much,  I  greatly  fear, 

On  what  is  right,  and  just,  and  fair, 

We  of  the  vaccine  counties  here — 
You  of  the  ursine  monster's  lair, 

Yet  quite  unanimous  agree 

To  doubly  dam(n)  your  blank  debris. 


376  The  Czars  Coronation. 

THE  CZAR'S  CORONATION. 
[WRITTEN  JUST  PREVIOUS  TO  THE  CZAR'S  CORONATION.] 

You  must  wake  and  call  me  early,  call  me  early,  Dagmar  dear 
T«>-morro\v  '11  be  the  grandest  day  of  all  the  festive  year; 
Of  all  this  festive  year,  Dagmar,  the  proudest,  grandest  day, 
i  'm  to  play  Czar  so  gay,  Dagmar;  I'm  to  play  Czar  so 

I  know  they  gibe  and  sneer,  Dagmar,  because  I  go  so  slow, 
And  tell  how  "Glorious  Peter"  did,  in  sacred,  old  Moscow; 
Let  them  call  me  coward-hearted,  I  care  not  what  they  say, 
For  I'm  to  be  crowned  in  May,  Dagmar;  I'm  to  be  crowned  in 
May. 

As  I  peeped  out   through  the  palace  bars,  whom   think  ye  I 

should  see, 

Lut  that  Krapotkin  leaning  up  'gainst  a  sour  apple  tree! 
lie  was  thinking  of  that  sharp  thing  I  said  about  Siberia — 
But  I'm  to  be  crowned  in  May,  Dagmar;  I'm  to  be  crowned  in 

M 

They  say  he's  dying  just  for  hate;  if  so,  well,  let  him  be: 
That -all  his  band,  with  bombs  and  things,  is  going  after  me; 
\\V11  let  him  know  that  little  game  is  one  that  two  can  play, 
After  I'm  crowned  in  May,  Dagmar;  after  I'm  crowned  in  May 

Little  Aleck  shall  go  with  me  to-morrow,  to  the  show, 
And  you  and  all  the  rest,  Dagmar,  will  be  around,  I  know; 
And  I  hope  when  that  thing's  put  on  at  last,  it  will  be  put  on  to 

stay, 
\Yhcn  I'm  crowned  Czar  in  May,  Dagmar;  when  I'm  crowned 

Czar  in  M. 

From  all  the  wondering  lands  afar — Old  Wilhclm  and  Young 

Wales, 

Emmanuel  and  Joseph,  too,  and  Tartars  with  pigtails, 
And  good  Queen  Vic,  if  she  isn't  sick,  or  weak  in  her  precious 

knee, 
And  many  more  from  a  for  re  will  come  to  our  court  to  see. 


TJie  Czar's  Coronation.  377 

And  big  and  little  potentates  will  don  their  new  store  clothes, 
And  strut  and  stretch,  and  swell  about  to  show  their   fullest 

growths — 
Oh!  a  long,  long  line  of  glittering  crowns  will  come  in  proud 

array 

To  see  me  crowned  in  May,  Dagmar,  to  see  me  crowned  in  May. 
*  ***** 

I  wish  the  thing  were  over ;  quite  nervous-like  I  am ; 
There  will  be  such  an  eager  crowd,  I  really  dread  the  jam; 
And  then  those  horrid  Nihilists  who  play  such  hellish  tricks 
On  kings  divine,  I  greatly  fear  they'll  get  me  in  a  fix. 

Oh!  ere  the  priest  anoints  my  head,  see  that  the  oil  is  right, 
And  not  some  Nihilist  compound  of  devilish  dynamite; 
And  if  they  make  me  take  a  sip  of  blessed,  holy  wine, 
Just  taste  it  first  yourself,  my  love,  to  see  it's  genuine. 

And  Daggy,  dear,  go  search,  yourself,  beneath  my  golden  throne, 
Lest  they  should  blow  me  up  on  it  and  leave  you  all  alone; 
And  put  another  extra  coat  on  my  new  steel-plated  shirt, 
Lest  in  the  crush  my  sacred  flesh  should  get  a  little  hurt. 

Search  well  the  inmost  depths  of  my  new  patent-leather  boots, 
To  see  there's  naught  concealed  within  that  cocks  itself  and 
shoots ; 

And  dearest  one,  first  closely  scan  my  breeches'  gilded  seat, 
To  see  there  is  no  fulminate  to  raise  me  off  my  feet. 

But,  oh !  above  all  other  things,  that  fearful,  fearful  crown ! 
Before  I  place  it  on  my  head  just  turn  it  upside  down, 
And  batter  it  and  hammer  it — just  let  my  subjects  scoff — 
That  it  may  keep  my  head  upon,  and  not  go  fizzing  off; 
And  take  the  diamonds,  one  by  one,  unto  a  blacksmith  shop, 
And  bid  him  try  each  blazing  gem  to  see  if  it  will  pop. 

Oh!  it  will  be  a  jolly  time,  if  not  for  me,  for  them, 

To  see  me  place  upon  my  brow  great  Russia's  diadem. 

Of  courtiers  proud,  with  praises  loud,  there  will  be  many  a  host — 

My  own  sweet  Nihilistic  pets,  and  maybe,  too,  Herr  Most, 


3/8  Bully  for  Elaine. 

And  Rossa,  the  O'Donovan,  from  Erin's  shamrock  lea, 

And  the  bold  "Black   Hands,"  from  foreign  lands,  will  all  be 

there  to  sec ; 
Red,  black  and  white,  to  sec  the  sight,  they  will  come  from 

haunts  afar, 
For  I'm  to  play  "Russia's  Czar,"  Dagmar;  I'm  to  play  "Crown 

the  Czar." 

Full  many  will  look  with  awe,  Dagmar,  upon  my  royal  face, 
And  envy  mc.^and  wish  that  they  were  standing  in  my  place ; 
I  only  wish  they  were,  Dagmar,  and  I  could  soundly  sleep, 
And  steal  away,  that  very  day,  and  go  to  herding  sheep. 


BULLY  FOR  BLAINE  * 


"Bully  for  Blainc! 

Hit  'cm  again!" 
Hear  the  grand  chorus  from  mountain  to  sea. 

Firm  in  his  stand — 

Wasn't  it  grand? 
Proud  of  New  England's  bold  hero  are  we. 

Massed  in  our  might, 

Firm  for  the  right — 
See!  the  Republicans  stand  like  a  wall, 

Steadfast  and  true, 

Sticking  like  glue, 
Democrats,  Workingmcn,  Grcenbackcrs,  all. 

Chainlcss  and  free, 

Stirred  as  the  « 
In  your  full  praise-  all  our  factions  combine, 

Shouting  amain, 

"Bully  for  Blaine!" 
Down  from  Mount  Hood  to  the  Mexican  line. 

*  Upon  the  vote  in  Congress  of  Mr.  Blaine  on  the  Chinese  Restriction  Bill. 


Ye   Weather  Prophet.  379 


Aliens  vile,  tread 

Over  their  bed — 
See!  our  brave  heroes  dead,  writhe  in  their  graves; 

Thrills  their  cold  clay 

Trampled.     Away! 
Treaties  that  make  us  the  equals  of  slaves. 

Standing  upright, 

Strong  in  your  might, 
Oh,  but  you  did  it  so  nobly  and  grand ! 

Lion  of  Maine, 

Do  it  again, 
Let  your  deep  bugle  blasts  startle  the  land. 

Pride  of  our  boast, 

Come  to  our  coast, 
Speed  over  mountain  and  desert  and  plain ; 

Give  us  a  shake — 

What '11  you  take? 
Here's  to  your  uttermost  end,  Mr.  Elaine. 


YE  WEATHER  PROPHET. 


"Go  up,  old  bald-head!"  prophesy  again, 
Wag  your  wise  ears  and  give  another  bray  ! 

Some  time  or  other  it  may  chance  to  rain, 

Then  you  can  wink  your  eyes,  and  proudly  say, 

"My  knowledge  scans  the  mystery  of  the  sky; 

O,  what  a  mighty  oracle  am  I !" 

Boys  !  throw  the  dust  into  his  blinking  eyes ; 

Prick  him  with  pins  to  help  him  up  the  grade  ! 
O  knock-kneed  prophet !  owl-eyed  babbler,  wise, 

Open  your  throttle-valve,  we're  not  afraid  ! 
Trot  out  your  whole  menagerie  !  Who  cares  ? 
"Go  up,  old  bald-head,  bring  along  your  bears  !" 


380  Smith  of  "  Sucker  Flat:' 

SMITH  OF  "SUCKER  FLAT." 


[A  PIONEER'S  REMINISCENCE.] 

"Smith  ?"    Seems  to  me  I've  heard  that  name  i 

Smith  ?— Smith  ?— Well,  I  declare  ! 
I  think  I've  heard  about  the  same, 

Sometime,  somehow,  somewhere. 
Jest  wait  a  little;  let  me  think — 

Why,  yes  !  I  knowed  him  well ! 
Kept  whiskey  station  at  the  "  Sink;" 

Had  grub  and  things  to  sell. 

Then  thar  was  hi--  "Pot-bellied  Smith," 

Way  back  in  fifty-eight 
Or  fifty-nine,  a  pardncr  with 

Bill  Jones  at  "  Devil's  Gate;  " 
And  Smith  who  handed  in  his  checks, 

(A  fairish  man  I  guess,) 
That  time  we  stretched  them  fellers'  necks 
For  jumpin'  Brown's  Express. 

We  hung  old  "Poker  Smith,"  let's  see  ! 

That  was  for  chcatin*  games ; 
And  one,  we  bounced  at  Cherokee, 

For  scllin'  salted  claims. 
Then  thar  was  Smith  of  Yuba  Dam, 

Who  fiddled  and  taught  school; 
And  Smith  whose  tothcr  name  was  Sam, 

That  stole  McCrackcn's  mule. 

And  "Bald-head  Smith"— he  spelt  it  Smythc— 

A  mighty  tony  chap, 
As  keen  as  any  new-ground  scythe, 

We  used  to  call  him  "Cap;" 
And  "Lazy  Smith"— sometimes  called  "Pike" — 

Too  lazy  most  to  budge, 
A  second-hand  jack  lawyer  like; 

Some  people  called  him  "Judge." 


Smith  of  "Sucker  Flat."  381 

Then  thar  was  Schmidt  the  barber-sport, 

Whose  wife  put  on  such  style, 
We  called  her  "Dutchess,"  just  for  short— 

You  ought  to  seed  her  smile. 
And  "Plug-hat  Smith"  with  ways  so  proud, 

You'd  thought  he  was  a  king. 
And  "Jackass  Smith"  who  laughed  so  loud 
He  made  the  canyon  ring. 

And  hold  !  there  was  old  "Peg-leg  Smith" 

That  mined  at  Bloody  Run, 
Who  laughed  at  grizzlies,  danger,  death — 

He  was  another  one. 
And  "Mormon  Smith"  that  struck  it  rich, 

Who  had  so  many  wives, 
They  couldn't  settle  which  was  which 

To  save  their  precious  lives. 

There  was  a  Smith  at  "  Sucker  Flat," 

A  most  peculiar  man, 
Who  had  a  most  peculiar  "gal," 

Whose  name  was  Mary  Ann. 
SJie  was  as  sweet  <as  any  rose, 

And  full  of  life  and  fun, 
And  had  at  least  a  dozen  beaus — 

Of  which  myself  was  one. 

Her  cheeks,  likewise  her  hair,  was  red — 

That  was  in  fifty-three ; 
Ah  me !  how  swiftly  time  has  fled, 
v    And  likewise  also  she. 
I  recollect  I  married  her 

About  the  first  of  May, 
And  "Keno  Johnson"  carried  her 

Upon  a  mule  away. 


382  Go  Slow,  Young  Man  ! 

\Ye  had  a  little  row  up  thar, 

And  then  she  sulked  and  moped, 
And  final'  lit  out  from  the  Bar — 

Jest  vamosed  and  eloped  ; 
Yes !  now  I  come  to  think  of  it, 

In  all  my  various  tramps, 
I've  knowed  a  right  smart  chance  of  Smiths, 

At  divers  times  and  "camps." 


GO  SLOW,  YOUNG  MAN ! 


Hotter  check  up,  and  go  slow,  young  man  ! 
Life's  a  rough  journey,  you  know,  young  man, 

And  you  may  get  tired,  or  floundered,  or  mired, 
In  effort  at  fleetncss  and  show,  young  man  ! 

Tis  true  that  the  ladies  may  smile,  young  man, 
And  simper  when  viewing  your  style,  young  man, 

But  that  will  grow  old,  and  useless,  and  cold 
And  tiresome,  after  a  while,  young  man. 

O,  how  do  you  flourish  so  sleek,  young  man, 
On  only  ten  dollars  a  week,  young  man  ? 

"Old  Sol"  I'm  afraid,  in  his  splendor  arrayed, 
Compared  with  your  glory,  was  meek,  young  man  ! 

You've  a  promising  little  moustache,  young  man, 
But  where  do  you  get  all  your  cash,  young  man, 

For  perfume  and  smell,  to  cut  such  a  swell, 
And  caper  and  cut  such  a  dash,  young  man  ?  " 

\Yhat  station  in  life  do  you  fill,  young  man  ? 
Sole  heir  of  a  millionaire's  will,  young  man  ? 

Or  skip,  jump  and  hop,  round  a  counter  or  shop, 
Or  guardian  stern  of  the  till,  young  man  ? 


.Jolin  Chinaman,  My  Jo,  John.  383 

Do  you  handle  the  funds  of  a  bank,  young  man, 
To  keep  up  such  racket  and  rank,  young  man  ? 

And  when  "something  goes  wrong,"  will  it  be  the  old  song — 
"A  guileless,  unfortunate  crank  young  man  ?" 

You're  gorgeous  with  jewels  and  chain,  young  man, 
And  flourish  a  sweet  little  cane,  young  man ; 

But  everything  shows  as  plain  as  your  nose, 
There's  vacuum  where  should  be  brain,  young  man. 

There's  always  a-many  a  slip,  young  man, 
In  life,  'twixt  the  cup  and  the  lip,  young  man, 

But  'tis  safe  to  assume,  ere  the  roses  thrice  bloom, 
You'll  go  to  the  "springs"  on  a  trip,  young  man. 


JOHN  CHINAMAN,  MY  JO,  JOHN. 

[Respectfully  Dedicated  to  the  Real  Workingmen  of  California.] 

John  Chinaman,  my  Jo,  John, 

When  first  we  were  acquaint, 
We  thought  you  soft  as  dough,  John— 

A  simple,  moon-eyed  saint. 
You're  much  too  smart,  and  we  must  part, 

O,  it  is  ever  so  ! 
For  all  about  we  hear  the  shout, 

"John  Chinaman  must  go  !  " 

You  take  the  poor  man's  bread,  John, 

His  meagre,  scanty  pay ; 
And  only  when  you're  dead,  John, 

You  take  your  bones  away; 
This  swindling  game's  a  burning  shame, 

You  play  it  down  too  low, 
And  thus  despoil  our  land  and  soil, 

John  Chinaman,  my  Jo  ! 


384  rjuayo. 


Some  things  will  happen,  sure,  John — 

Some  things  you  never  dreamt — 
For  Kearney  swears,  and  rips  and  tears, 

And  hoarsely  bawls  for  "  hemp." 
Your  pig-tail  is  too  long,  John, 

Must  be  curtailed,  you  know; 
And  you  must  just  "get  up  and  dust," 

John  Chinaman,  my  Jo. 

The  proof  about  you  thickens,  John, 

You're  far  too  fat  and  sleek — 
You're  much  too  fond  of  chickens,  John, 

For  one  so  mild  and  meek. 
The  angry  crowd  with  tumult  loud, 

Like  seas  toss  to  and  fro; 
If  you  arc  wise  take  my  advice, 

And  just  get  up  and  go. 


CETAWAYO. 


Thou  wcrt  every  inch  a  king, 

Cctawayo ; 
Had  your  way  in  everything, 

Cctawayo ; 

By  no  foolish  scruples  haunted, 
Took  what  pleased  you,  all  undaunted- 
All  the  dusky  wives  you  wanted, 

Cetawayo. 

Thou  wcrt  proud  and  full  of  grit, 

Cctawayo ; 
Wouldn't  budge  nor  scare  a  bit, 

Cctawayo. 

Sat  upon  your  ivory  throne, 
Sway  of  Kngland  wouldn't  own, 
Said  you'd  rule  your  land  alone, 

Cctawyo. 


Cctawayo.  385 


You  did  raise  the  very  "Harry," 
Cetawayp, 

When  your  warriors  wished  to  marry, 

Cetawayo. 

In  your  vision  everywhere, 
"But  the  brave  deserve  the  fair;" 
Veterans  but  with  love  should  pair, 

Cetawayo. 

You  did  make  your  own  selections, 

Cetawayo ; 
And  for  youthful  predilections, 

Cetawayo, 

Didn't  care  a  single  shilling, 
And  for  maidens  still  unwilling, 
Had  a  way  quite  frank  and  killing, 

Cetawayo. 

Stranger  to  Pity's  pleading  tear, 

Cetawayo ; 
Stranger  still  to  coward  Fear,     - 

Cetawayo ; 

Sudden  as  the  lightning's  scath, 
Deadly  as  the  lion's  wrath, 
Wreck  and  ruin  strewed  thy  path, 

Cctawayo. 

Taurus-like  in  brawn  and  muscle, 

Cetawayo, 
Thou  wert  eager  for  the  tussle, 

Cetawayo ; 

Gave  no  heed  to  threat  or  story, 
Didn't  care  for  England's  glory, 
Nor  her  peerless  Queen,  Victoria — > 

Cetawayo. 


*s 


386 


Scorned  your  foes  within  your  kraals, 
tawayo; 

1  them  from  your  mountain  walls, 
Cetawa; 

Made  it  lively  for  the  Briton 
While  you  had  a  place  to  sit  on — 
Truce  and  compromises  spit  on, 
Cetawayo. 

As  the  maddened  buffalo, 

Cetawa 
Thou  didst  rush  upon  thy  foe, 

Cetawayo. 

Scorning  still  to  bend  or  yield, 
With  thy  assagai  and  shield, 
Sought  thy  focmcn  in  the  field, 

Cetawayo. 

Isandula's  gory  talc, 
Cetawa 

Long  shall  English  faces  pale, 

Cetawayo. 

Gazing  wide  the  waters  o'er, 
Tender  eyes  on  England's  shore 
W«-i  p,  for  those  shall  come  no  more, 

Cetawayo. 

Yesterday  as  whirlwind  thou, 

Cetawayo ; 
Humbled,  captive,  fallen  now, 

Cetawayo. 

Once  as  eagle  strong  of  wing, 
As  the  tiger's  deadly  spring, 
Thou  wcrt  every  inch  a  king, 

Cetawayo ! 


"  Oh,  Why  Should  the  Spirit  of  Mortal  Be  Proud?"     387 


O,  WHY  SHOULD  THE  SPIRIT  OF  MORTAL  BE 
PROUD?" 


"  Oh,  why  should  the  spirit  of  mortal  be  proud  " 

When  it  goes  to  the  circus  to  mix  with  the  crowd  ? 

Because,  that  the  tinsel  is  gorgeous  to  see, 

And  the  clown  is  as  funny  as  funny  can  be — . 

Inspiring  to  look  at  the  tricks  of  the  bear, 

And  the  females  that  posture,  with  nothing  to  wear; 

The  festive  performers,  t>ght-rope  and  trapeze, 

Who  hop,  skip  and  jump  like  a  parcel  of  fleas; 

The  feats  of  the  acrobats  grand  to  behold, 

Who  cling  fast  to  nothing,  with  perilous  hold; 

Then  longing,  defiant,  new  dangers  to  dare, 

Like  a  shell  shot  from  mortar,  go  whizzing  through  air. 

'T  is  also  soul-lifting  to  ponder  and  gaze, 

And  muse  on  the  animals — mark  all  their  ways  ; 

The  lithe,  dandy  monkeys  that  grimace  and  dance 

With  a  grace  like  a  polished  professor  from  France ; 

The  loves  of  the  elephants,  tender  and  true, 

The  giraffes,  and  giant,  and  giantess,  too ; 

The  dwarf  and  the  dvvarfess  so  cunning'sedate; 

The  lion  and  lioness  lying  in  state; 

The  tiger  and  tigress  outstretched  on  the  floor; 

The  awful  gorilla  (from  Erin's  green  shore,) 

Who  curbs  his  hot  anger,  all  ready  to  break 

When  punched  by  the  hoodlums,  for  courtesy's  sake ; 

All  rare  captive  creatures  that  creep,  crawl,  or  run, 

Apes,  ant-eaters,  everything  under  the  sun, 

All  docile  and  sitting  around  on  their  hams, 

Or  lying  in  peace,  like  the  innocent  lambs; 

All  happy  and  good  in  the  highest  degree, 

How  spirit-inspiring !     How  pleasant  to  see  ! 

But  v/hcn  we  look  'round  on  the  great  human  crowd 
And  n  >tc  its  performance,  ah,  that's  why  we're  proud  ! 


388     "  Oh,  Why  Should  ;  /  of  Mortal 

Here,  children  stare  mutely  with  saucer-! 
Or  yell  with  delight  in  a  blissful  surprise— 
Ai.  '1  colors,  tan,  freckle  and  brown, 

•ik  Pikes  from  the  country,  fast  hoodlums  from  town; 
The  hay-scented  granger,  the  clerk  from  the  store 
With  hair  parted  sweetly  behind  and  before, 

>  proudly  with  sweetheart  Ms 

All  gorgeous  with  jewels,  paste-diamonds  and  pearls; 
Here  citizens  jolly  from  over  the  sr 
With  an  .odor  suggestive  of  Limburger  chce 
Proud  women  arrayed  like  the  lilies  in  bloom, 

$  might  envy  their  fragrant  perfume; 
Fat  ladies  by  fashion's  whims  never  accursed, 

and  ready  to  bi: 
With  merriment;  maidens  half  shy  and  demure, 

.ondcr,  and  "warranted  pure" 
-•Is,  with  butterfly  w: 

Who  go  for  the  candy,  and  pop-corn  and  thi: 
people  'tis  pleasant  to  ki 

t  from  the  "back  country"  to  take  in  the  show; 
Whole  families  winding  in  sinuous  trail, 
That  tapers  like  serpent  from  head  to  the  tail  ; 
The  patriarch  thoughtful,  old  woman  and  all, 
From  misses  that  giggle,  to  babies  that  squall. 

O,  visions  of  bliss,  ere  our  fore-parents  sinned  ! 

O,  dreams  of  the  tropics,  of  "Onrm/.  and  \\\ 

Of  homes  of  the  Peris,  of  lo'.  \  ilc; 

Of  vathcd  Ceylon's  bright  coral-set  i 

Win.- re  lovers  coo  soft  'ncath  the  .!ms 

As  happy  and  careless,  and  thoughtless  as  clams — 

Utopia's  dreams  !   Ye  arc  sweet,  fair, 

P,ut  cannot  at  all  with  a  circus  comp 

Wh'-n  we  feel  we  arc  equals,  and  one  of  the  crowd, 

O,  that's  why  the  spirit  of  mortal  is  pruiul  ! 


Trouble.  389 


TROUBLE. 


Jangle  and  clatter ! 

What  is  the  matter  ? 
Everything  troubled  and  everything  wrong; 

Ministers  preaching, 

Orators  screeching, 
Cracking  our  tympanums,  still,  with  their  gong. 

Doctrines  that  vex  you, 

Sadly  perplex  you — 
Ring  in  your  ears,  your  confusion  to  seal ; 

Death  and  cremation  ! 

Hell  and  damnation  ! 
Child  of  iniquity,  how  do  you  feel  ? 

Preacher  in  passion, 

Gabriel  fashion 
Blowing  his  trumpet,  and  taking  his  text 

Quickly  convinces 

Hearer  that  winces, 
Trouble  in  this  world,  and  hell  in  the  next. 

Atheist  howling, 

Orthodox  scowling, 
Everyone  telling  you  what  is  the  best; 

Braying  forever, 

Leaving  you  never, 
Haunting  you,  taunting  you,  O,  for  a  rest ! 

O,  for  a  season 

Tempered  with  reason  ! 
When  will  this  torment  and  torturing  cease  ? 

Preacher  dogmatic, 

Howling  asthmatic, 
Cease  from  your  torture,  and  let  us  have  peace ! 


39O  Oleomargarine. 

Drivers  o'crload  you, 

Poisons  corrode  you, 
Till  you're  as  sad  as  an  alkalicd  ox; 

Finding  and  losing, 

Doctrines  confusing, 
Orthodox,  Paradox,  Heterodox. 

Horrors  eternal ! 

Tortures  infernal 
Filling  you,  thrilling  you,  grilling  you  through  ! 

Ministers  shouting, 

Ingcrsolls  scouting; 
Mortal  hysterical,  how  do  you  do  ? 


OLEOMARGARINE. 


Sacred  old  bummer  of  Ganges  and  Nile  ! 
Cease  from  your  grumbling  and  listen  awhile. 
Stop  your  boo-hooing,  you  horrid  old  bilk, 
Useful  for  butter,  and  why  not  for  milk  ?. 
Listen  to  science,  awhile,  if  you  please; 
Bah !  you  old  mountain  of  butter  and  cheese. 

Soon  shall  your  blood  on  the  desolate  plain, 
Redden  the  earth  with  its  dark  crimson  stain; 
Soon  shall  your  hide  in  a  cart  taken  hence, 
Wrinkled  and  gory,  be  hung  on  tl: 
Soon  shall  your  fatne  lory  be 

Bolted  and  chewed  by  :nachinc, 

Drenched  with  cold  water  and  wanned  in  a  vat, 
Crammed  into  canvas,  and  tied  up  in  that, 
Molded  and  squeezed  huge  rollers  between, 
Changed  u  '  O-lc-o-mar-y.i-i  ine  ! 

Churned  like  the  seas  by  the  wild  tempests  vexed, 
Salted  and  rolled  into  packages  next; 
Spread  in  thin  wafers  the  palate  to  suit — 
How  do  you  like  it,  you  horrid  old  br, 


Oleomargarine.  39 1 

Wonderful  Science  !  What  next  will  you  do  ! 
Everything  old  must  give  place  to  the  new. 
Eggs,  by  the  millions,  they  hatch  'em  by  steam; 
Babies — new  process — dear  madam,  don't  scream, 
Greatest  invention — but  really,  just  now 
Cannot  precisely  explain  to  you  how ; 
Tell  you  to-morrow — have  patience  and  wait, 
(Patents  for  sale  for  the  county  and  State;) 
Sugar-cured  hams  manufactured  from  wood; 
Carefully  canvased  and  warranted  good — 
Now  comes  this  latest  to  finish  the  scene — 
Olc — (I  can't  speak  it;  you  know  what  I  mean — 
Can't  say  that  awful  word  twice  if  I  tried; 
Did  the  thing  once,  and  I  like  to  have  died.) 
Age  of  invention  !  philosopher's  dream  ! 
Wonderful  era  of  lightning  and  steam  ! 
Grand  are  thy  triumphs,  but  greater  than  all 
O-lc-o-mar-ga-rine — that's  what  they  call 
Grease  from  some  dark  and  mysterious  source, 
Butter  from  bulls — bully  butter,  of  course  ! 

Man,  he  is  good,  ('tis  a  thousand  of  shames,) 
Only  for  "poker"  and  like  parlor  games. 
Can't  make  him  useful  at  all  if  you  tried — 
Worth  not  a  "cuss"  for  his  tallow  and  hide; 
Can't  teach  him  how  to  make  honey  like  bees, 
Worth  not  a  cent  to  make  butter  and  cheese ; 
Vain  as  a  peacock  and  cross  as  a  bear, 
Only  a  handful  of  whiskers  and  hair; 
Won't  work  in  harness  at  all ;    as  a  rule, 
Bucks  like  a  "bronco"  and  kicks  like  a  mule; 
Won't  clo  to  roast,  like  a  turkey  or  pig, 
Tougher  than  buckskin,  and  rather  too  big; 
Horrid  incumbrance  on  Nature's  great  plan — 
Everything  useful  for  something,  but  man. 


392  Baby. 


BABY. 


Blissful  Love's  evangel ! 

I  lap  pi  ness  for  kings  ! 
Mamma's  "precious  angel," 

Minus  but  the  wings. 


•. 


Babbling  babies  ever 

Striving  vainly,  each 
With  a  fond  cndt 

>  reach  ; 

Whether  dark  or  sunny, 

S  all  their  days; 
3  me,  ain't  it  funny 
Just  to  watch  their  v. 

Infancy's  soft  weakness 

1  laply  safely  o'er, 
Sec  it,  full  of  meekness 

Sitting  on  the  floor. 

Eyes  in  wonder  blinking, 

Solemn  as  a  bat; 
At  the  ceiling  winking, 

Dropping  this  for  that : 

Grasping  quick,  convtih! 

Rattles,  toys  and  ri; 
Witli  di->ire  impulsr 

allowing  all  things. 

With  a  leer  sagacious, 

.ing  naught  unti 
Stuffing  mouth  capacious — 


Baby.  393 

See  him  awkward  toddle — 

Never  in  repose; 
See  his  mother  coddle 

When  he  bumps  his  nose  ! 

Up  again  and  at  it 

Ere  his  eyes  are  dry, 
See  him  fondly  pat  it — 

What  he  terms  "  a  pie." 

Fooling  with  a  pin — 

See  the  little  fellow; 
Now  he  sticks  it  in — 

Hear  him  howl  and  bellow ! 

Quick  self-closing  gates, 

Soon  he  knows  their  histories ; 
Now  investigates 

Other  little  mysteries. 

Watching  every  bubble 

With  his  blinking  eyes; 
'Getting  into  trouble 

Chasing  butterflies, 

Hear  his  piercing  screeches, 

Thrilling  and  intense, 
As  he  tears  his  breeches 

Climbing  o'er  the  fence  ! 

Now  he  sees  a  swallow  ! 
Salt  upon  his  tail : 

Expectation  hollow- 
How  his  projects  fail ! 

Now  he  sees  a  dolly 

Of  the  female  gender — 
What  egregious  folly ! 

Nonsense  soft  and  tender  ! 


394  Baby. 


\Vliat  ecstatic  bliss  ! 

How  they  grin  and  gabble  ! 
I  low  they  coo  and  kiss  ; 

How  they  lisp  and  babble ! 

Now  they  pluck  the  roses 
Fresh  with  dew  of  morn  ; 

Now  they  scratch  their  noses 
With  the  naughty  thorn. 

Now  he  bids  defiance 

To  his  nurse's  ban  ; 
Now  he  plays  at  "  science  " — 

Calls  himself  "  a  man." 

Now  he  dives  in  "  pools  ;  " 
Hides  himself  in  "hedges" — 

Playing  with  edged  tools, 

Finds  how  sharp  their  edge  is. 

Now  he  issues  "stocks," 

Cunningly  designing; 
Now  he  gathers  rocks — 

Calls  it  "  honest  mining  !  " 

As  the  years  have  swept  on, 

Grown  a  little  bigger, 
Longs  to  own  a  weapon 

With  a  little  tru 

In  his  hat — 

II.  !.     struts  and  swaggers  ! 
Talks  of  this  and  that — 
rds  and  d 

Now  he  runs  for  "  office  " — 
Rii.-tlrs  'round  the  street, 

And  his  hat  will  doff  us 
F- 


Ravoninahtritriniarivo !  395 

Spite  of  admonition 

Oft  to  have  a  care, 
Plays  at  "  politician ;  " 

Tries  to  mount  a  chair. 

Crash,  and  yell,  and  rumble  ! 

Bless  me  !  there  it  goes, 
With  a  headlong  tumble 

On  its  precious  nose  ! 

Finis!   nose  all  battered, 

Gewgaws  thrown  aside  ; 
Playthings  broken,  scattered, 

Nothing  else  untried, 

Now  it  climbs  the  ladder — • 

Gracious  !  there  it  goes  ! 
Lying  dreamless,  lifeless, 

With  its  upturned  toes  ! 


RAVONINAHTRITRINIARIVO!  * 


I  read  that  name  the  other  day, 

And  awful  passion  shook  and  thrilled  me, 
And  vowed  I'd  do  it  right  away — 

I'd  go  and  rhyme  it,  if  it  killed  me  ! 
The  hardest  time  you  ever  saw 

I  had,  I'd  have  you  all  believe,  O, 
Just  hear  me  try  it — (Oh,  my  jaw!) 

Ra-vo-ni-nah-tri-trin-i-a-ri-vo ! 

It  was  a  heathen  freshly  caught — 

This  "Noble  of  a  Thousand  Honors!" 

And  quite  deserved  them  all  I  thought, 
These  gifts  conferred  by  royal  donors. 

*"The  Noble  of  a  Thousand  Honors,"  the  Queen  of  Madagascar's  Ambassador,  recently 
arrived  in  New  York. 


396  AV 

lie  was  a  little,  gilded  man, 

In  royal  favor's  smile  a  baskcr; 
His  color  was  a  black  and  tan, 

licgc,  th<  -car. 

He  came  from  that  lorn  Shcba  dun, 

:  swarth  Afric's  confines  farther, 
To  court  "iir  mighty  Solomon, 

Our  shining  sun,  the  awful  Arthur! 

Long,  long  I  wrestled  with  that  weird 

And  awe-inspiring  ;  :iic, 

But  all  my  efforts  wild  appeared 

Of  madman's  mouthings  but  a  mimic. 
I  wipe  the  sweat  from  off  my  brow, 

And  feel  much  better  you  perceive;  O, 
I  lip,  hip,  hurrah!   I've  got  it  now — 

Ravoninahtritriniarivol 

It  was  a  fearful  thing,  that  name, 

When  first  my  trembling  ear  did  hear  it — 
As  hard  for  me  to  speak  the  same 

As  for  the  "  noble  one  "  to  bear  ft; 
But  now  I've  got  it  right,  ha!  ha! 

No  more  my  troubled  soul  shall  grieve,  Oh! 
Eureka!   Bueno!   1  lip,  hurrah! 

Kavoni!  ha!  ha!  triniarivo!!! 


KING  THEEBAU. 


King  Theebau,  sick  at  Mandalay, 

The  cable  tel '. 

By  his  astrol<  .vice, 

1  up  a  potion  in  a  trice, 
And  took  it  as  a  patient  should, 
But  didn't  do  him  any  good. 


King  Thecbaii.  397 

O,  king!  although  you'd  quantum  suff\ 
The  mixture  wasn't  strong  enough. 
Your  priests  and  maidens,  much  I  fear, 
Had  not  such  strength  as  those  grown  here; 
And  much  I  doubt,  I  must  confess, 
If  you'd  a  lawyer  in  that  mess, 
Or  mining  shark  of  any  size, 
Or  broker,  .stock  or  otherwise. 

If  you'll  but  persevere,  O,  king, 
We'll  gladly  help  you  fix  this  thing ! 
They're  much  too  weak — your  priests  and 

preachers — 

We'll  send  you  Kallochs,  Cooks  and  Beechers, 
And  scores  of  hungry  politicians; 
All  colors,  sexes  and  conditions; 
A  Legislature  we've  no  use  for, 
(We  trust  you'll  quickly  cook  their  goose  for;) 
A  hundred  more  or  less  attorneys, 
Our  long-tailed  "Johns,"  and  long-eared  Kearneys, 
And  in  the  batch,  if  you  so  please, 
We'll  send  along  a  few  M.  C's. 
Of  maidens,  we've  a  countless  throng, 
Though  ancient,  well  preserved  and  "strong," 
There's  Susan  B.,  that  mighty  talker, 
And  blithesome  Dr.  Mary  Walker; 
And  to  complete  the  royal  stew, 
Your  infants — maybe  they  will  do. 

Betimc  your  torment  keenly  pricks, 
These  fresh  ingredients  nicely  mix; 
Then  in  your  raging,  feverish  hours, 
Plant  them  beneath  your  kingly  towers, 
And  if  you  fail  of  being  cured 
'Twill  do  us  good,  we  feel  assured. 
If  you  this  course  but  well  pursue 
'Twill  cure  them  if  it  doesn't  you. 


398  Ot  .SV//7/-  Trop  ! 

O,  SEMI-TR01'! 


O,  Semi -Trop  !     What  do  you  mean  ? 

What  have  we  clone  ?     Alas  !  alack  ! 
That  you  should  take  us  right  between 

Our  'wildcrcd  eyes  a  sudden  whack  !' 
I'm  sure  we've  been  your  lovers  true — 

Have  let  our  frisky  muses  sing; 
Have  praised  your  balmy  skies  of  blue, 

Your  flowers, your  bovvers,  your  everything; 
Have  whispered  to  thcc  many  a  tale, 

Have  doted  on  thcc  as  a  bride, 
Compared  thy  gifts  to  Eden's  vale, 

(With  much  advantage  to  thy  side,) 
Have  overlooked  some  little  faults — 

Some  fond  and  foolish  ways  you  had — 
Some  little  slips  and  skips  and  halts, 

And  now — it  really  is  too  bad  ! 

n  a  dreamy  trance  we  sec — 

The  ice-panes  crash  beneath  our  feet ; 
A  da/./ling  gleam  o'er  hill  and  lea, — 
Whitc-.-hroudcd,  shivering  citrus  tree, 
1  snow-balls  Hying  in  the  street; 
And  every  night  thy  frosty  breath 
Comes  laden  with  the  chill  of  death. 

I  do  believe,  upon  my  soul, 
That  reckless,  restless  Jecms  Bcnnettc 

Is  bringing  home  th<-  i.  y  Pule. 
A  prize  within  his  swift  Jeannettc — 

To  strike  us  so,  with  sudden  pop  ! 

1  low  could  you,  cruel  Scmi-Trop  ? 
frost,  and  snow  and  ice, 
O and  bla7.es,  ain't  it  nice! 


"Poor  Old  Bones."  399 

"POOR  OLD  BONES.""  ' 


Ancient,  muffy,  guileless  Bones  ! 

Dreaming  soft  of  tropic  zones, 
Gentle  knight  of  saw  and  hammer; 

Pilot  of  the  ship  of  State, 

Tempt  the  tempest  not  of  hate ; 
Linger  till  the  seas  are  calmer. 

List  the  breakers'  threatening  tones, 

Brave  old  Bones  ! 

Poor  old  Bones ! 
Stocks  and  stones 
Well  might  melt  to  tears  and  pity 
At  those  resolutions,  when 
All  those  festive  Workingmen 
Met  en  masse  in  Oakland  city, 
Och  hones ! 
Crushed  Bones ! 

Sighs  and  moans  ! 

Poor  old  Bones  ! 
Wreath  of  rue  thy  brow  entwining ; 

Held  in  terror's  awful  fetters, 

Poring  o'er  those  fatal  letters, 
Sealed  and  signed  with  mystic  signing, 

Grinning  skull  and  cross  of  bones — 

Poor  old  Bones  ! 

Poor  old  Bones  ! 

Useless  Bones  ! 
Like  a  wether  sent  to  slaughter, 

Fast  corraled  by  "cursed  rings," 

Stript  of  all  thy  fleece  and  things, 
For  that  stolen  draught  of  "water;" 

Weep,  Stones, 

For  Bones. 


400  I)l  Camp — 18+9. 

Poor  old  Bones  ! 
Hear  his  groai 

-  Kearney's  swagger, 
Threats  of  skinning  like  an  eel, 
Death  by  sudden  hemp  or  steel, 
Poison,  bullet,  noose  or  dagger ; 
Kearney's  edict  swift  dethrones 
Poor  Bones ! 

Poor  old  Bones  ! 

Now  the  groans 

Plead  for  mercy  loud  and  louder; 
W  they  cease  and  all  is  still, 

Now  they  grind  thcc  in  the  mill, 
All  thy  structure  crushed  to  powder — 

Poor  Bones ! 

Ground  Bones  ! 


IN  CAMP— 1849. 


The  natives  all  looked  on  in  awe ; 

\Ye  were  the  queerest  set  of  comers: 
Huge  travelers  from  "Arkansaw," 

And  "Pikes,"  and  "Argonauts,"  and  bummers. 

Big,  homely  "Hoosicrs,"  tall,  raw-boned; 

The  "Southern  Chiv,"  the  "Bowery  Boy;" 
And  whittling  Yankees,  nasal-toned, 

And  "Sucker  Boys"  from  "Illinoy." 

We  tried  each  other  to  amuse, 

And  ready  all,  for  rows  and  musses; 

Turl  lians,  Infidels  and  J« 

And  other  miscellaneous  "cusses." 


In  Camp — /<£/p.  401 

All  day  we  worked  beside  the  sluice 

With  pick  and  pan,  and  spade  and  rocker ; 

And  left  our  purses  lying  loose, 

And  never  dreamed  of  safe  or  locker. . 

And  so  we  worked  with  jest  and  song, 
And  reckless  threw  away  the  "tailings," 

And  rocked  the  "cradle"  all  day  long, 
But  never  heard  an  infant's  wailings. 

And  when  the  busy  day  was  done, 

And  night  unveiled  her  starry  glories, 

We  gathered  slowly,  one  by  one, 

Around  the  fire,  to  hear  the  stories — 

How  "Greenhorn  Gulch"  was  panning  out 

To  every  man  a  hundred  dollars; 
And  "Jake"  and  "Greeny"  went  about 

With  "white  biled"  shirts  and  stand-up  collars; 

How  Jenkins  struck  it  awful  rich, 
(The  same  that  had  that  pretty  daughter,) 

And  thought  he'd  have  to  dig  a  ditch 
From  "Wild-cat  Run"  to  fetch  in  water.* 

And  then  we  heard  a  noise  without, 

And  Louis  Lee,  the  lazy  loafer, 
Came  in  and  told  us  all  about 
'  The  doings  of  the  boys  at  "Ophir ; " 

The  chunk  just  found  by  Harry  King; 

The  pocket  struck  by  Mike  O'Bannian; 
And  how  he  had  the  biggest  thing 

Of  any  miner  in  the  canyon ; 

How  "Texas  Bill"  and  "Irish  Pat" 

Were  ever  all  the  rows  and  shoots  on ; 
And  gambler  Hill,  of  "Brandy  Flat," 

Passed  in  his  checks,  and  died  with  boots  on ; 
*        26 


IIo\v  grim  old  "Rocky  Mountain  dray 
Went  out  to  hunt,  one  morning  drizzlj 

And  how  they  found  him  dead  next  d.u| 
All  chawed  and  mangled  by  a  griz/.K 

.  Bob  and  Jim,  the  "tarnal  fools," 
\\'ent  to  the  ]>ay,  and  came  bac 
And  Smith  was  whipped  for  stealing  in 
And  with  his  "pard"  got  up  and  "  du 

How  Jones  and  Johnson  went  about 
And  put  on  airs  and  drank  their  burr 

Until  their  prospect  "petered  out," 
And  left  them  poor  as  countcr-jump< 


How  "Frisco  Kate"  and  "  Ilangtown  bl 
Danced  at  the  ball  with  roughs  and 

And  how  old  Simpson's  red-haired  "gall 
Throwcd  off  on  spooney  Charley  Summer* 

And  "Lije"  just  then  chipped  in,  and  told 
Of  Wood's  Express,  by  a;.;ents  halted; 

And  how  the  claim  that  "Yank"  had 

To  "Pike"  at  "Humbug  Flat"  was  "salted." 

And  then  some  one  discussed  about 

Dick  Ropes,  who  tied  to  Susie  Keller- 
She  "sized"  his  "pile,"  and  cleaned  him  out, 
And  left  him  for  another  "feller;" 


In   Camp — 18^9.  403 

And  he,  poor  fool,  took  on  and  cried 
All  night,  and  in  the  morning,  Sammy, 

A  bullet  hole  found  in  his  hide, 

And  he  all  stiff  and  cold  and  clammy. 

And  then  we  talked  about  the  rains; 

(The  moaning  pines,  their  branches  tossing;) 
The  wonders  of  the  mighty  Plains, 

And  what  befcl  us  in  the  crossing; 

Of  night  attacks  by  foes  unseen ; 

Of  Indian  hunts,  and  wild  excursions; 
Of  swimming  rivers — Platte  and  Green — 

And  other  innocent  diversions ; 

Of  "Devil's  Gate,"  and  "Chimney  Rock;" 
The  mountain  pass ;  the  desert  glaring  ; 

Of  mirages  that  ever  mock 

The  steps  which  follow  them,  despairing ; 

Of  alkali ;  of  water  bad ; 

The  pony  race,  and  who  was  winner  ; 
Of  Brigham  Young — the  wives  he  had — 

"More  than  his  share,  the  d — d  old  sinner;" 

How  hard  he  makes  the  poor  things  work, 

And  always  keeps  'em  in  a  harem, 
Like  any  cursed  heathen  Turk, 

And  never  lets  a  man  go  near  Jem ; 

And  if  they  smile  on  one,  alack! 

He  quick  disposes  of  the  burden — 
He  takes  and  ties  them  in  a  sack, 

And  throws  them  in  the  "River  Jordan." 

And  then  we  talked  of  friends  and  home ; 

The  trip  by  sea,  across  the  Isthmus ; 
Of  safe  return,  no  more  to  roam ; 

And  greetings  warm  at  merry  Christmas. 


404  " (  '!w!cy  A' 

And  so  the  night  hours  waned  and  • 

Until  our  eyes  grew  dim  and  w« 
And  each  his  blank.  'opt, 

ream,  perchance,  of  Belle,  or  Mary 

O,  glorious  days!  O,  daz/.lin 

.c  meteor's  glare  upon  the-  river; 
lit  vision  lied!   C),  golden  dream  ! 
Like  rainbow  seen,  and  gone  for, 


"CHARLEY  ROSS." 

Oh,  for  some  hermit,  lone  retreat ! 
Oh,  for  some  Kden-lan  tic! 

no  more  that  nai  fct  meet 

Within  the  columns  >hic. 

Have  they  no  pastime  more  refined— 

These  m  n  that  harness  up  the 
Than  thus  dcthronin;,  I's  mind, 

And  babes  and  ancient  granddamcs  frightening  ? 

Yet  still  they  ply  the  weary  wires, 

And  fla-h  it  ever  s1  >r; 

I  feel  fell  fury's  llamn 

And  I  can  stand  this  thing  HO  longer. 

If  to  oblivion'-;  dark"  shelf 

t  philanthropic  deed  consigned  him, 
I'd  murd<  r  u(  hai 

1  think,  if  i  could  only  find  him. 

Give  us  a  name  both  rare  and  n 

'.r  Schneider.  Jon 

Or  Green,  or  White,  or  Urown  would 
Hut  1  am  sick  of  "Monsieur  T«.n 


Alkali  Jim.  405 


My  lips  have  drained  the  cup  of  gall, 
And  life  has  many  heavy  crosses 

For  me ;  but  heaviest  of  them  all, 
These  everlasting  "Charlie  Rosses." 


ALKALI  JIM. 
["DIED  WITH  ins  "BOOTS  ON."] 


"Died  with  his  boots  on — game  to  the  last !" 

That's  what  the  telegraph  said  last  night; 
Yes  ;  he  was  always  mighty  fast — 

Always  into  a  row  or  fight. 
Alkali,  hung?  Yes,  I  reckon  it's  him — 

Somewhere  out  there  about  Albuquerque; 
Gamblin'  and  shootin'  ? — That's  just  like  Jim, 

Anything  else  before  honest  work. 
Son  of  a  minister — knowed  him  well — 

Always  full' of  old  Nick,  and  wild; 
Reckon  he  didn't  believe  in  hell — 

Got  too  much  of  it  when  a  child. 
Went  to  school  with  him  many  a  day — 

Swore  like  a  parrot,  and  smoked  and  chawed; 
Always  dangcrous-like  at  play — 

Mad  in  a  minute,  and  fit  and  clawed. 
Ready  of  hand,  and  free  of  heart, 

True  to  his  friendships  wrong  or  right — 
Chivalrous  ?  Always  would  take  the  part 

Of  the  dog  that  was  undermost  in  the  fight ! 

Come  out  here  to  this  coast — let's  see !   • 

Disrcmembcr  of  all  the  facts, 
Somewhere  in  '52  or  '3, 

Started  at  'Frisco  peddling  tracts; 


406  Alkali  Jim. 

Reckon  he  saw  no  healthy 

Took  to  women,  and  cards  and  win 
1  lecr'd  of  him  next  at  the  Comstock  mines 

Dealin'  faro  in  '59  ; 
Vigilantes  and  him  fell  out 

Up  in  Montana  and  Idaho, 
When  they  put  all  them  cut-throat  gangs  to  rout, 

Told  him  to  git,  in  a  way  not  slow. 

Flittin'  and  driftin'  here  and  there, 

Over  the  mountains  and  deserts  dim, 
Never  long  settled  anywhere; 

Fvery  camp  on  the  coast  knowcd  Jim. 
Bannock,  Helena,  Deadwood,  all 
<lc  it  hot  for  his  little  game; 
Here  in  the  Summer,  there  in  Fall, 

Denver  and  Lcadvillc  just  the  same; 
Hecr'd  of  him  once  at  Bodie,  too, 

Tucson,  Tombstone,  Total  Wreck ; 
Roamin'  the  camps  of  the  coast  all  through, 

Reckon  he's  passed  in  his  final  check. 

Lazy  and  proud  as  a  haughty  Turk, 

Cut  and  shoot  at  the  drop  of  a  hat, 
Talk  to  him  about  "honest  work?" 

Wouldn't  hear  to  a  bit  of  that ; 
True  as  steel  to  the  friends  he  had, 

1  latin'  them  strong  that  hated  him, 
Plenty  of  good  and  more  of  bad, 

;  wa^  the  kind  of  a  boy  was  Jim. 
Reckless  and  wild  from  the  very  start, 

Only  in  cusscdness  takin'  p; 
And  his  poor  old  mother  will  break  her  heart 

If  ever  she  hears  how  her  darlin'  died. 
Run  With  a  garni  >1  in'  drink  in'  lot, 

Spendin'  their  money,  free  and  fast— 
"  Died  with  his  boots  on  !"-     I  Inn;;  <>r  shot 

Always  the  way  with  that  sort  at   1.. 


The  CJ targe  of  the  Light  (Clad)  Brigade,  407 

THE    CHARGE   OF  THE   LIGHT   (CLAD)    BRIGADE. 

Half  a  mile,  half  a  mile, 
Half  a  mile  downward, 
Trudging  through  sand  and  sun, 

Went  the  One  Hundred ; 
Downcast  and  slightly  nude, 
Stared  at  with  glances  rude, 
What  though  the  multitude 

Giggled  and  wondered. 

Down  on  the  wave-washed  strand 
Forms  the  devoted  band, 
Fastly  linked,  hand  in  hand, 

Fashion  and  Folly; 
Stared  at  by  "rake"  and  "swell," 
Rustic  and  city  belle, 
O,  but  they  stood  it  well ; 

Wasn't  it  jolly  ? 

Not  one,  though  fat  or  spare, 

Not  one,  for  graces  rare 

In  that  crowd  standing  there, 

Might  one  have  singled; 
Half-breeds  and  thoroughbreds, 
Bald  heads,  and  curly  heads, 
Auburns  and  festive  reds 

Picturesque  mingled. 

Stripes  down  their  longitude, 
Stripes  'round  their  latitude, 
Males  in  meek  attitude 

Tremblingly  went  in; 
"White-lipped,  with  terror  dumb," 
Watching  the  rollers  come — 
Brassy  and  crop-haired  some, 

A  la  San  Oucntin. 


408  -  (Clad)  Brigade. 

Matrons  sedate  and  staid, 

\Yatched  their  youn;^  nestlings  wade; 

YOUIILJ  maid  and  ancient  maid, 

lied  and  lilted; 
Soon  in  the  breakers'  power, 
Helpless  to  shrink  and  cower, 

:ini;-  like  Summer  flower 

hut  to  be  wilted. 

Breakers  to  ri^ht  of  them, 

to  left  of  them, 
eakers  in  front  of  them 

Volleyed  and  thundered; 
\Yould  ;hry  dare-  brave  the  swells, 
In  their  wild,  frenzied  spells, 

and  bin  lies? — 

All  the  crowd  wondered. 

Idly  the  gang  on  shore 
Lounged  on  the  sandy  floor; 
ks  from  ihc  dry-^oods  store, 

;>i-h  and  frisky; 

"S  ml  "Mose"  and"Lizc," 

Doctors  with  ^  es, 

llers  in  merchandise, 
cr  and  whiskey. 

Lawyers  with  child-like  smile, 
(ir  levoid  <>f  i;uilc, 

Dandies  in  stunning  style, 

.dcloth  and  dusters; 
Mermaids  and  other  m;. 

!it  shades  and  other  shades, 
I  I V  grades, 

I 


The  Charge  of  the  Light  (Clad)  Brigade.  409 

Forward  the  bathers  stept, 
Oh,  how  the  breakers  leapt ! 
Oh,  how  they  madly  swept 
•         Shoreward  and  rumbled  ! 
Caught  in  the  naughty  swirls, 
Dark  curls  and  sunny  curls, 
Fat  girls  and  funny  girls, 
Ruffled  and  tumbled. 

Wrecked  was  each  helpless  craft, 
Oh,  the  salt  brine  they  quaffed  ! 
Oh,  how  they  shrieked  and  laughed, 

Struggled  and  scrambled  ! 
Stripped  of  art's  mysteries, 
In  the  receding  seas 
Some  on  their  hands  and  knees 

Festively  gamboled. 

O,  how  they  shoreward  skipped  ! 
O,  how  they  rained  and  dripped  ! 
O,  how  they  tent-ward  tripped 

When  it  was  over! 
Musing  on  "frauds"  and  "salts," 
Musing  on  ringlets  false, 
Dreaming  of  "hop"  and  "waltz," 
Maiden  and  lover. 

When  shall  their  memory  fade  ! 
Oh,  the  brave  show  they  made 

Freely  and  fully! 
Worse  halves  and  better  halves, 
Big  calves  and  little  calves, 

Wasn't  it  "bully?" 


4io  The  Eastern   Question. 


THE  EASTERN  QUESTION. 

Those  Eastern  lands  where  Love  reuses, 
And  dreams  upon  a  bed  of  roses; 
Those  Orient  lands  of  lotus-leisure 
That  Moore  has  sung  in  tuneful  measure; 
Soft-steeped  in  sighing,  sensuous  languor, 
Except  when  stirred  by  jealous  anger, 
Or  pricked  by  bayonets  or  sabres 
Of  Russ,  or  Greek,  or  other  neigh  1 
Their  dreamy,  dozing  life  molesting — 
How  very,  very  interesting! 

You  read  about  those  curious  people 
Who  build  a  church  without  a  stc- 
And  give  you  choice  of  circumcision, 
Or  practice  on  you  short  division; 
Who  squat  around  upon  their  ranches 
Transacting  business  on  their  haunch. 
And  if  astray  a  wife  you've-  led  off, 
Will  coolly  clip  your  foolish  head  off; 
And  then,  without  a  warrant  written, 
Will  calmly  drown  her  like  a  kitten; 
Who  never  laugh  at  something  funny  ; 
Who  scorn  t«>  work  and  yet  love  money; 
Who  ornament  their  mosques  with  d,; 
And  sulky  slaves  with  ba^tinad- 
Who  marry  wives  and  keep  no  tally, 
And  fight,  and  pray,  and  swear  by  "Allah  !" 
And  leel  that  in  a  mortal  tussle 
The^e  Mus^ulmen  are  men  of  muscle. 

You  read  of  various  other  matter— 

Of  '  "attar;" 

Of  lovely  hoiiris,  just  "too  niter," 
.  ;1  your  heart  is  in  a  flutter; 


TJie  Song  of  CJiin  Lan  Pin.  411 

Of  Muftis,  Muezzins,  and  Dervishes — 
Those  guardians  of  the  loaves  and  fishes ; 
Of  yasmaks,  turbans,  trowsers,  tunics, 
Of  Khedives,  Pashas,  Beys  and  Eunuchs — 
One  of  the  East's  peculiar  features — 
Society's  most  petted  creatures; 
Those  gentle-men — a  harem's  treasure, 
More  bent  on  business  than  on  pleasure; 
Who  guard  from  harm  the  sacred  harem — 
(You  wonder  if  the  ladies  fear  'em) 
And  then  remark,  "What  curious  people, 
Are  those  who  '  run  '  Constantinople  !" 

You  grow  quite  hot  discussing  Turkey, 
And  shout,  with  gestures  wild  and  jerky, 
"  No  compromise  with  curst  Mohammed ! 
The  Turk  must  go  from  Europe,  d — n  it! 
His  creed  denies  a  soul  to  woman  ! 
He  lets  his  daughters  look  on  no  man ; 
A  living  corpse  whose  carcass  cumbers; 
A  nightmare  troubling  Christian  slumbers ; 
A  blot  on  Europe's  map — a  stigma  !" 
And  leave  unsolved  the  dark  enigma. 


THE  SONG  OF  CHIN  LAN  PIN. 


I  am  mighty  Chin  Lan  Pin  ! 
Don't  you  know  me?  I'm  "Ah  Sin  L" 
You  step  out  and  I'll  step  in — 

Workeeman,  you  hcaree  me  ? 
Pack  your  traps  and  don't  be  long, 
When  you  hear  my  breakfast  gong ; 
From  Pekin  to  far  Hong  Kong 

Alice  coolee  fearee  me. 


412  Our  Late  Celebration. 

I  can  Chinee  coolce  tamee, 
Melican  he  muchcc  samcc, 
Sabbcc  you  my  little  gamec  ? 

Alice  cash  I  grabbc ; 

.n  inakee  heap  go  dead; 
I  can  cuttce  offce  head ; 
I  can  takec  allcc  bread — 

IJunglingame  no  sabbce. 

I'm  a  Tartar  stout  and  bold, 
Sandal-clogged  and  gilt  with  gold, 
Not  of  any  common  mould — 

Allcc  time  way  uppce; 
I'm  a  mighty  Mandarin, 
You  step  out  and  I'll  step  in, 
Or  your  sort  we'll  quickly  skin 

As  a  rat  or  puppy. 


OUR  LATE  CELEBRATION. 


[A    FOURTH   OF  JULY  LYRIC.] 


\\~hat  Los  Angeles  did'at  our  grand  celebration, 
\Ylicn  we  met  to  remember  the  birth  of  our  Nation, 
I  will  try  to  relate  in  a  way  that's  imparti;:!, 
Without  envy  or  malice — and  first  came  our  Marshal — 
A  \Volf  in  sheep's  clothing,  as  smiling  and  placid 
As  oil  of  croton  or  sulphuric  acid. 

t,  he  never  would  hurt  you, 
And  the  last  in  the  world,  in  distress  to  <  <  >u; 

hould  you  let  evil  ways  cumber  or  trip  you, 
He'd  scent  you  afar,  and  would  certainly  nip 

And  next  came  L  their  good  service  to  render, 

So  gorgeous  and  grand  in  their  da/xlint;  splendor; 


Our  Late  Celebration. 

As  gay — let  me  see — well,  I  think,  on  reflection, 

As  a  spotted  male  horse,  on  the  day  of  election. 

Their  untamed,  fiery  steeds  reared  aloft  and  cavorted, 

And  arched  their  proud  necks  and  they  whinnied  and  -snorted, 

Then  started  all  sudden,  then  stopped  as  in  wonder, 

Their  heads  decked  with  ribbons;  their  necks  clothed  with  thunder. 

The  cortege  moved  on  and  nothing  could  be  gayer 

Than  the  turnout  that  carried  our  worthy  Lord  Mayor. 

And  the  Common  Scoun — Council,  I  mean — too,  were  present, 

So  smooth  and  so  smiling,  and  looking  so  pleasant. 

Like  a  dream  of  the  past,  by  the  fancy  begotten, 

Like  memories  buried  and  almost  forgotten, 

Came  four  Veterans  gray,  by  the  hand  of  time  smitten, 

Who  once  in  their  prime,  whaled  the  cohorts  of  Britain — 

At  Chippcwa  was  it ; — or  was  it  at  Lundy  ? — 

A  mighty  good  job,  though  they  did  it  on  Sunday. 

Then  men  came,  who,  when  lowered  war's  thunder-cloud  gloomy, 

Went  forth  to  the  land  of  the  old  Montczuma; 

In  the  Halls  of  the  Aztecs — you  all  know  the  story — 

They  reveled  where  princes  once  sat  in  their  glory. 

They  vanished,  and  then  came,  the  "Old  Forty-Nincrs," 

With  Long  Tom,  and  Rockers,  Bullwhackcrs  and  Miners; 

The  scene  made  me  falter,  and  sigh  like  a  booby ; 

And  I  thought  of  the  long  ago  days  on  the  Yuba, 

When  we  washed  the  vile  dross  in  the  Long  Tom  and  Rocker, 

And  owned  as  much  railway,  as  Stanford  or  Crocker. 

The  Firemen  came  then,  with  their  picturesque  turnout, 
Who,  if  they  can  help  it,  will  not  let  you  burn  out; 
They  came  with  their  engine — gay  midnight  carousers — • 
In  gorgeous  red  shirts,  and  black  cassimere  trousers. 

Next  gleamed  in  the  line  two  bouquets  of  young  Misses 
All  bright  as  the  blossoms  the  sweet  west  wind  kisses; 


414  Our  Late   Celebration. 

Some  small  like  the  bud,  ere  its  glory  di 

Some  bright  as  the  flush  of  the  early  Spring  roses; 

There,  too,  in  the  line  came  proud  Liberty's  godd< 

In  rainbow-hucd  train,  and  gay  Star  Spangled  bodice, 

And  "Justice"  with  equipoise  scales  quickly  neared  me — 

I  asked  for  a  pound,  but  I  don't  think  she  liccrd  me; 

1  ler  stock  was  exhausted,  perhaps,  by  SO  many, 

For  she  passed  on  her  way,  and  I  didn't  get  any. 

There  were  Germans  from  Rhine,  and  Gymnasts  and  "Turners." 
Could  turn  inside  out — and  some  very  you  ers; 

And  next  in  the  line,  inarched  the  bold  Sons  of  Krin, 
With  Shamrock  and  harp,  and  the  loved  "green  a-wcarin'." 
There  were  Butchers  on  horseback,  and  Grocers  in  wagons, 
And  Vintners  with  wine  in  huge  barrels  and  flagons; 
There  were  men  "on  the  square,"  who  wield  mallet  and  auger, 
There  were  "Artists"  in  hair,  and  "Old  Chris"  with  his  lager; 
Like  th  ,  came  the  owners  of  flocks,  with  their  henchmen, 

There  were  swarthy  Ranchen>s  and  gay,  gallant  Frenchmen; 
There  were-  Bakers  with  bread-carts,  and  Milkmen  with  milk; 
And  Ladies,  all  lovely  in  satin  and  silk- 
Some,  cold  as  the  stream  touched  by  chilly  Boreas — 
Some,  shy  as  the  shrinking  night-blooming  Cereus; 
Some,  brown  as  the  leaves,  touched  by  Autumn's  breath  chilly — 
Some,, blooming  and  fair  as  the  sweet  water-lily, 
Some,  boisterous  and  glad  as  the  bright  leaping  billow — 
Some,  tender  and  sad,  as  the  lone  weeping  willow; 
There  were  eyes  that  were  veiled  by  the  long  silken  lashes, 
And  some  that  WCTC  bri.Jit  as  the  quick  lightning  Hashes, 
Some,  sadder  than  death,  in  their  sorrow  and  ashes. 

The  Piper-  they  blowed  till  we  looked  on  in  wonder, 

The  1  hummers,  they  drummed  like  the  deep,  rolling  thunder; 

\\V  marched  to  the  Garden  of  Paradise,  quickly, 

Where  grapes  intertwine  with  orange  boughs  thickly; 

Saw  the  trci  5,  but  we  saw  not  the  "fair  fruit  forbidden," 

N«>  doubt  there  was  some,  but  'twas  carefully  hidden. 


Our  Late  Celebration.  415 

The  platform  was  weak  as  a  lover's  first  sonnet, 

And  groaned  'neath  the  dignity  centred  upon  it; 

Its  structure  was  not  in  a  healthy  condition, 

And  it  fell  with  a  crash  like  a  dream  of  ambition. 

Then  the  Parson  he  prayed,  but  I  couldn't  hear  fully, 

But  a  lady  in  front  whispered  softly,  "That's  bully;" 

And  the  Reader  got  up,  and  with  grand  peroration 

And  grimaces,  went  for  the  Great  Declaration ; 

And  when  he  had  finished  they  brought  out  the  Poet; 

He  bowed  and  he  smiled;  and  they  told  him  to  "go  it^" 

He  went;  and  dear  Poet,  don't  let  this  thing  fret  you; 

That  lady  remarked,  "That  is  bully,  you  bet  you." 

It  was  good ;  and  so  softly  the  smooth  measures  glided, 

We  were  charmed  with  his  song,  and  we  all  coincided. 

Then  the  Orator  rose,  in  his  turn,  and  orated, 
Denouncing  oppression,  and  tyranny  hated, 
And  spoke  of  vile  plots  our  dear  rights  to  inveigle; 
And  his  glance  was  as  fierce  as  our  own  fearless  eagle. 
Then  he  went  for  our  focmen  and  sent  them  to  Hades4 
And  talked  of  sweet  women,  and  flattered  the  ladies ; 
(Which  the  same,  I'd  remark,  while  my  pen  is  about  it, 
No  Fourth  of  July  ever  passed  off  without  it.) 

Then  the  Rabbi  arose,  our  deep  feelings  expressing — 
For  our  Country,  imploring  God's  choicest  blessing. 
We  felt  as  we  listened,  indeed  we  were  sinners, 
And  then — we  felt  hungry,  and  went  to  our  dinners. 


The  twilight  came  soft,  with  its  hush  sad  and  tender, 
The  stars  blazed  aloft  in  their  glory  and  splendor, 
The  rockets  soared  skyward,  and  slowly  descended, 
And  the  "Fourth"  with  its  pomp  and  its  glory  was  ended 
And  I  say  it,  with  never  the  least  hesitation, 
We  had  a  good  time  at  our  late  celebration. 


41 6  .  McThcrson. 


MR.    McPHERSON. 

Did  I  never  advise  you  of  Mr.  McPhcrson  ? 
A  very  nice  man,  but  a  very  queer  person, 
Who  never  sought  office,  and  paid  all  his  taxes, 
And  nc".  1  help  in  the  grinding  of  ax< 

as  ruffled,  blow  cold  or  blow  hot, 

But  seemed  to  lack  something,  you  didn't  know  what: 
And  to  prove  to  you  all  that  his  head  wasn't  level 
He  didn't  believe  in  a  hell  or  a  devil: 
Yet  a  very  nice  man,  but  a  very  queer  person 
For  c very-day  life,  was  this  Mr.  MeTherson. 

Although  he  detested  the  talk  of  this  slang  , 

:i  speaking,  he  sometimes  used  violent  language; 
And  lawyers  and  preachers  and  such,  he  termed  "scamps," 
And  bo<  •'.  ,  canvassers,  lecturers,  "tramps;" 

And  "dealing"  in  stocks  he  called  "robbing  and 

stealing" — 

This  crust}-  old  man,  with  a  plainness  unfeeli 
And  sneered  at  the  "fashions"  and  scorned  all  prctcn 
Which  proved  he  was  clearly  quite  out  of  his  senses — 
Oh,  a  plain-spoken  man,  but  an  unpleasant  person 
>cicty's  walks,  was  this  .Mr.  Mcl'hersoii. 

He  minded  his  business  and  scorned  to  talk  slander— 

This  terrible,  hard-headed,  old  salamam! 

Drank  just  what  he  wanted,  and  ate  with  his  1 

Took  life  in  dead  c-arnest,  was  true  to  his 

And  his  frier.  a  very  unpopular  JKT 

In  this  "gild<    .  .vas  old  Mr.  son. 

At  last  he  fell  ill  of  an  ailment  complex, 

And  all  felt  relieved  when  he  passed  in  his  ch< 

His  sickness-   a  thma  or  phthisic —  *> 

Soon  carried  him  off,  for  he  wouldn't  take  physic; 

ns  and  bl  ed  the  doctors, 

And  called  them  all  manner  of  "  potion  concoctors" — 


In  Mcjnoriani.  417 

Said  they  were  "in  league  with  old  Death  and  the  Devil," 
Which  proved  to  a  fraction  his  head  wasn't  level — 
Such  a  crotchety,  willful,  unreasoning  person  ! 
Peace,  peace  to  the  ashes  of  Mr.  McPhcrson  ! 


IN    MEMORIAM* 


He  was  the  pride  of  all  our  flock, 
No  other  could  come  near  him  ; 

Our  high-heeled,  noble  Brahma  cock, 
The  lord  of  all  the  harem. 

He  used  to  call  with  trumpet-tongue 
Ere  death's  cold  chain  had  bound  him, 

Like  Sainted  Mormon,  Brigham  Young, 
His  pullets  all  around  him. 

He  numbered  all  his  wives  by  "tens" 
In  grand  review  each  morning, 

But  sore  bereaved  his  widowed  hens 
Set  desolate  in  mourning. 

No  more  the  dainty  worm  he  picks 
To  tempt  their  longing  palates; 

No  more  his  tender,  orphaned  chicks 
Shall  feel  his  feet,  like  mallets. 

He  was  of  all  the  roost  the  boss, 
Likewise  the  "Champion  Walker," 

And  never  for  a  word  at  loss, 
A  most  persuasive  talker. 

He  sleeps  beneath  the  orange  tree, 
Where  wolf  nor  skunk  may  take  him, 

Oblivious  to  our  grief,  ah  me  ! 

Till  Gabriel's  trump  shall  wake  him. 

Our  Eig  Boss  Rooster  "Brigham,"  departed  this  vain  world,  Aug.  26,  1879.     Requtescat,  etc. 


4i 8  Diospyrus  Kaki  f 

DIOSPYRUS    KAKI. 

(  "FRUIT  OF  THE  GODS!") 


Thou  puckcr\-,  sweet  illusion,  fair  and  bright ! 

Thou  dream  of  golden  glory  fond  and  1) 
Soft  to  the  touch  and  tempting  to  the  sight, 

I  low  !  ast  thou  brought  our  trusting  souls  to  grief!. 
We  taste,  our  eyes  with  sudden  tears  arc  blind, 
As  mourners  sad,  that  comfort  may  not  find. 

"  Fruit  of  the  Gods?  "  what  sleek,  sarcastic  Jap, 
In  silken  gown,  and  bamboo-basket  hat, 

Or  oily,  smooth-faced  missionary  chap 

To  fleece  us  of  our  stamps,  invented  that  ? 

If  so,  what  funny  sort  of  gods  are  these 

They  worship  blindly,  o'er  the  Western  seas? 

Gall  at  thy  worst,  insipid  at  thy  best, 

At  aver,v_;c  like  a  toad-stool  over-ripe; 
How  like  a  viper  warmed  within  our  breast, 

Thou  waited'st  for  thy  chance  to  rend  and  gripe  ! 
What  hopes  we  kept  embalmed  in  myrrh  and  spice, 
Of  each  sweet  sproutling,  dear  beyond  all  price  ! 

We  gave  for  each  small  object  of  our  lust 
Three  silver  tokens.     So  it  came  to  pass 

They  bore  the  motto  grand:   "  In  ( iod  we  Trust." 
We  trusted,  and  our  hearts  arc  sad,  alas ! 

And  sick  with  hopes  indefinite  deferred, 

Or  full  of  wrath,  as  captive  grizzly  stirred. 

"  Fruit  of  the  Gods  !  "  I  gave  some  to  my  swine  ; 

What  eager  rush,  contention  and  turmoil ! 
You  should  have  heard  them  grunt,  and  squeal  and  whine 

N.  B.— A  few  trees  for  sale  at  first  cost  price.    Confederate  bonds  taken  at  par  in  payment. 


Modern  Loves    Young  Dream.  419 

Like  childhood  lured  to  take  the  festive  oil  ! 
They  were  the  maddest  pigs  you  ever  saw, 
And  now  prefer  a  cabbage,  cooked  or  raw. 

Go  to  !  thou  goodly  seeming  of  desire, 

Thou  mocking  phantom,  with  high-sounding  name  ! 
Thou  fraud,  with  blush  upon  thy  cheek  of  fire, 
•     As  conscious  of  thy  all-pervading  shame ; 
With  valor  and  religion's  high  attest,* 
With  other  humbugs  lie  thee  down  to  rest. 


MODERN  LOVE'S  YOUNG  DREAM. 


"Love  in  a  Cottage?" 

Nonsense  and  pottage ! 
Hold  the  fort,  girls,  reinforcements  are  near; 

What  though  ranks  eager 

Closely  beleaguer, 
Rescue  will  reach  you  in  time,  never  fear. 

What  though  love  sighing, 

Haunts  you  slow-dying, 
You  will  be  smiling  in  time  as  your  wont; 

"Kisses  and  Cupid?" 

Mercy,  how  stupid  ! 
Bullion  and  money-bags,  ho  t  to  the  front  ! 

"Love  is  enough  ?" 

Blarney  and  stuff! 
Nothing  like  fashion  and  flounces  and  rank; — 

"Death  and  heart-famine?" 

Nonsense  and  gammon  ! 
Nothing  like  lucre,  and  coin  in  the  Bunk. 

*  The  unapproarhaMe  excellencies  of  this  fruit  were  attested  by  certificates,  real  or  spurious,  of 
naval  officers,  and  missionary  preachers  in  Japan. 


2 la:  ;tns. 

HATTIE  HIGGINS. 

[A   RED    DOG    Iff  HI    **S    KOMANCF..] 

Married!  Well, 

That  just  beats  hell ! 
That  just  gits  me,  stranger,  sorter: 

"Couldn't  get  along  without  it? 

Needn't  take  on  so  about  it?" 
W<  U,  I  know  I  hadn't  ortcr. 

It  is  many  years  ago, 

We  was  promised  like,  you  know; 
Sorter  half-engaged,  you  see, 
Me  to  her,  and  her  to  me. 

She  was  just  the  very  neatest 

And  the  smartest  gal,  and  sweetest, 
Kvcr  in  the  Red  Dog  Diggin's— 

It  was  somewhere,  let  me  sec ! 

Way  back  there  in  '53 — 
And  her  name  was  H attic  lliggins. 

It  was  fixed.     A  little  while, 

When  I'd  finished  up  my  pile 
And  my  claim  had  ceased  to  pay, 

(It  was  pay  in',  stranger,  bully,) 
We  should  splice  and  go  away 
Down  and  settle  at  the  ' 

\Ve  had  fixed  the  thin;.;  up  fully. 

\Ve  would  build  a  castle  there, 
Firm  and  tall  and  not  of  air, 

lu  t  ,;  i  other  wealthy  sinners; 

Get  up  "corners,"  loan  out  money, 
Live  on  clover,  milk  and  honey; 

Give  receptions,  routs  and  dinners, 


Hattie  Higgins.  421 

Ride  in  cars  and  omni busses; 
We  would  laugh  and  snap  at  fate, 
Put  on  style,  and  live  in  state — 

Something  like  them  Nob  Hill  cusses. 

Everything  was  work  in'  well, 
When  a  stranger  came — and  hell 

Was  to  pay  from  that  time  forward; 
He  was  'dressed  in  stove-pipe  hat, 
White  biled  shirt  and  striped  cravat, 
Patent  boots  and  gaudy  vest; 
And  his  coat  was  of  the  best — 

Bought  with  money  that  he'd  borrowed. 
He  could  dance  and  sing  and  play 
Like  a  Frenchman  all  the  day, 

And  was  polished-like  and  chatty; 
Still,  I  didn't  dream  of  danger, 
But  I  noticed,  somehow,  stranger, 

He  was  awful  sweet  on  Hattie. 

Soon  I  noticed  with  alarm, 
She  was  held  as  with  a  charm; 

Drcamy-like  and  absent-minded, 
When  I  came  at  fall  of  night; 
But  she  listened  with  delight 

To  his  compliments  long-winded. 

Women,  they  arc  curious  critters; 
Show  them  something  new  that  glitters, 

And  they  fly  right  off  the  handle; 
Show  them  diamonds,  silks  and  rings, 
And  they'll  singe  their  foolish  wings, 

Like  a  moth  in  flame  of  candle. 

First,  I  didn't  care  a  bit 

For  his  flattery  showered  upon  her 
When  they'd  talk  and  sit  and  sit, 

Rather  proud-likc  of  the  honor. 


422  Ha:  :ins. 

I  \vas  never  ofth.it  kind- 
One  of  them  hot,  jealous  cu 

Scein'  motes,  yet  stony-blind, 
Always  gettin'  into  musses. 

Sooner  I'd  have  thought  to  sec 
Oil  and  water  make  a  fusion, 

Than  her  fondness  turn  from  me  ; 
But  I  woke  from  that  delusion. 

Well,  to  cut  the  story  short, 

Told  her  that  I'd  better  leave- 
Was  n't  any  of  that  sort 

Over  milk  once  spilt  to  grieve. 
Didn't  care  to  take  a  part 

In  a  durncd  three-handed  game; 
Tried  to  blot  her  from  my  heart, 

But  I  loved  her  all  the  same. 

She  ?     Of  course  she  felt  quite  bad 

At  this  turnin'  of  the  card  ; 
Cried  a  little,  but  was  glad 

That  I  didn't  take  it  hard. 
Me  ?     I  went  about  my  work, 
Grave  and  proud  as  any  Turk, 

Melancholy  as  a  mule; 
For  when  courtship  takes  that  form 
'T  is  n't  any  use  to  storm- 
Always  make  the  thing  a  rule. 

So  I  let  them  bill  and  coo 

All  the  dreamy  Summer  through  ; 

And  the  thing  went  on  and  on, 
Soft  as  Kve  and  Adam's  fall, 

Till  the  truth  began  to  dawn 
Plainly,  and  I  saw  it  all. 


Hattie  Higgins.  423 

Then  I  flared  up  like  old  Harry — 

Offered  him  his  choice,  to  fight 
Or  the  foolish  gal  to  marry — 

Said  he'd  make  the  thing  all  right. 

Still,  her  fears  he'd  lull  and  soften, 

Lulled  the  heart  that  he'd  betrayed; 
Promised  marriage  soon,  and  often ; 

Promised  still,  and  still  delayed. 
But  she  woke  to  comprehension 

Of  results  of  coming  time, 
Wild  with  shame  and  apprehension ; 

But  he  didn't  care  a  dime. 

Just  to  think  the  cussed  shame, 
When  he'd  wearied  of  his  claim — 
Worked  the  lead  of  her  affections, 
Severed  all  her  heart's  connections — 

Jumped  the  game — the  triflin'  scamp  ! 
Meaner  than  the  meanest  Injun, 
May  his  soul  in  hell  be  sing'in' — 

Lit  right  out  and  left  the  camp ! 

Would  you  ever  think  it,  stranger  ? 
In  her  helpless  time  of  danger, 

Sncakin'  fled  the  coward  whelp; 
To  her  pleading  gave  denial, 
Left  her  in  her  hour  of  trial, 

But  I  found  her  friends  and  help. 
But  their  help  was  all  in  vain, 

And  the  dawning  of  the  light 

Saw  her  at  the  close  of  night, 
Free  from  travail  and  from  pain. 

Soft  her  gentle  spirit  fled, 
Upward  soaring  with  the  lark; 
But -she  left  a  tiny  spark, 

Faint  and  flickering  in  her  stead. 


424  Hat  tic 


Helpless,  weak  as  weak  could  be, 

Lay  her  worse  than  orphaned  child; 
And  it  seemed  to  smile  on  me 

As  her  mother  once  had  smiled ; 
Then  I  olcmn  oath, 

In  the  presence  of  them  both — 

Of  the  living  and  the  dead   - 
I'd  protect  the  helpless  kid; 
Then  I'ci  find  where  he  was  hid, 

And  I'd  settle  him  with  lead. 

After  that,  a  month,  or  maybe 
More,  I  took  her  little  baby, 
With  its  mother's  angel  face, 
Down  to  'Frisco,  to  a  place — 

To  a  couple  that  I  knowcd ; 
They  was  childless,  rich  and  lone, 
Hadn't  any  of  their  own, 

So  she  gladdened  their  abode. 
She'd  her  mother's  gentle  smile, 

And  the  eyes  that  ever  haunt, 

re  she  should  not  want; 
So  I  staked  her  with  my  pile. 

Gobbled  up  a  powerful  lot 
Of  them  worthless  ;;and-hcaps  there, 
Vacant  then,  and  bleak  and  bare, 

Just  how  in. 
Don't  remember  what  I  paid — 

liiit  I  know  I  got  t 
There  tlu-y  laid,  and  laid,  and  laid; 

Now  they  s  ;  a  heap. 

little  swi 

To  a  1,  >ok  a  turn, 

Signed  and  . erything — 

Deeded  it  to  h«-r  and  hern. 


Hattie  Higgins.  425 

Then  I  took  an  oath,  you  see, 

That  upon  this  changeful  earth, 
She  should  never  know  of  me, 

Or  the  secret  of  her  birth. 
So  she  grew  the  fairest  flower 
In  proud  'Frisco's  queenly  bower, 

Fairy-like  in  form  and  grace — 
Everything-  is  for  the  best, 
And  her  secret,  let  it  rest ; 

For  it  might  be  out  of  place, 
Now  the  thing's  well  nigh  forgot; 
So  it's  better,  maybe  not — 
For  they're  awful  proud  and — well 
Don't  you  never,  never  tell. 

Stranger,  don't  you  think  me  crazy? — 
Maybe  I'm  a  little  hazy, 

Thinkin'  over  all  the  past; 
Of  her  young  life's  cruel  scorning, 
Of  the  clouds  that  veiled  her  morning; 

But  her  skies  are  bright  at  last. 
When  I  heard  that  she  was  married, 
Her,  the  little  kid  I  carried — 

When  I  read  it  in  that  paper 
All  about  her  high-toned  marriage, 
Presents,  diamonds,  jewels,  carriage, 

That's  what  made  me  cut  that  caper. 

So  it  is  !    A  curious  thing 

Just  to  watch — the  queerest  sight, — 
How  them  mushroom  fellers  spring 

Rank  and  juicy,  in  a  night, 
Fly  into  an  awful  passion 

If  you  dare  to  intimate, 

When  their  piles  were  not  so  great, 
That  their  mothers  took  in  washin'. 


426  Hat  tic  Higgins. 


Start  a  little  peanut  stand — 
That's  the  way  them  fellers  do  it- 
Get  a  tract  of  worthless  sand, 
Run  some  streets  and  alleys  through  it; 

Keep  a  little  whisky  shop, 
Gamble  in  them  minin'  stocks 

Till  the  under  dog's  on  top— 
Pilin'  up  their  marble  blocks; 

Every  one  a  dancin'  round, 
Like  a  Scotchman  in  a  reel ; 

Bounce  you  with  a  sudden  bound, 
Skin  a  stranger  like  an  eel; 

Last  week  busted,  rich  to-day, 
Pilin'  up  their  cords  of  money — 

That  is  frisky  'Frisco's  way; 
Yes,  you're  right !  it's  awful  funny. 

But  they  say  that  now  and  then, 
Lone  and  scattered,  you  may  find 

Bully,  brave,  big-hearted  men, 

And  her  feller's  of  that  kind. 

^ 

But,  I've  got  'way  off  the  track, 

Thinkin'  of  that  little  kid; 

And  I'll  tell  you  what  I  did 
When  I  made  the  riffle  back. 

Well,  I  took  thr  scent, 

Followed  him  to  Nigger  Tent, 
Whiskey  Flat  and  M«>rm«'n  l>ar, 
HangUnvn,  Ophir  and  Nevada, 

Tracked  him  back  to  Rough  and  Ready 
And  I  got  the  scoundrel  thar,— 
Got  the  game  that  I  was  alter; 

It  was  in  the  afternoon, 

Look  in'  in  the  Star  Saloon, 
I  was  struck  with  .shouts  of  laughter; 

He  was  drinkin'  with  Jiill  Summers, 

And  a  crowd  of  gamblin'  bummers, 


H attic  Higgins.  427 

And  was  boastin'  of  her  ruin, 
Of  sweet  Hattie's  foul  undoin', 

And  was  somewhat  worse  for  grog ; 
All  my  blood  boiled  hot  as  lava; 
I  was  heeled  with  trusty  navy, 

And  I  shot  him  like  a  dog ! 

"  What  about  it  ? "     Well,  not  much  ; 

But  a  jury  sot  that  night; 
Some  was  Yankees,  some  was  Dutch, 
Plain,  straightforward,  used  to  such, 
Honest,  rough,  red-shirted  miners, 
Mostly  tough,  old  forty-niners, 

And  their  verdict,  "  Served  him  right ! " 

So  I've  been  here  ever  since — 

Seen  the  early  foot-prints  fade, 
Watched  the  eve's  soft,  mellow  tints 

Melt  and  deepen  into  shade. 
All  the  boys  I  ever  knew, 

They  have  vanished  long  ago; 
Frazer,  Washoe,  Caribou — 

They  are  scattered  through  and  through, 

And  the  valleys  down  below ; 
Some  are  rich,  and  some  are  broke, 

Some  have  stood,  and  some  have  fell — 
Rest  beneath  the  pine  and  oak  ; 

Which  are  happiest,  who  can  tell  ? 

Leave  these  lonely,  played-out  diggin's, 

Where  the  stream  in  silence  glides? 
Leave  the  grave  of  Hattie  Higgins? — 

Not  for  all  the  world  besides! 
Here,  where  shadows  dance  and  quiver, 
Dreaming  of  the  past  forever, 

Where  the  pines  in  whispers  call, 
I  shall  cherish,  living,  dying — 
What  is  that  ?     Her  spirit  sighing — 

That's  it,  stranger,  that  is  all. 


AutopsicaL 


I  have  clone  with  life's  prospecting, 
I  have  ceased  of  hope  expecting— 

What  to  me  is  wealth  or  glory  ? 
Stranger,  you  may  sneer  and  scout  it, 
That  is  all  there  is  about  it — 

That  is  mine  and  Hattie's  story. 


AUTOPSICAL. 


Six  medicos  met  for  a  festive  palaver, 

Around  the  stark  form  of  a  passive  cadaver 

In  life  they  had  tortured  with  Latin  prescriptions — 

Vile,  villainous  compounds  of  divers  descriptions; 

Draught  ,  drastics,  enemas  and  clysters ; 

Incisions,  and  cuttings,  and  probities  and  blisters — 

They  had  pounded  him,  sounded  his  chest,  diagnosed  him, 

"With    everything   wrenched    him,  and  drenched  him   and 

dosed  him, 

And  now  after  all  when  the  breath  of  life  failed  him, 
These  doctors  were  curious  to  know  what  had  ailed  him, 
And  quick,  like  grave  vultures,  they  gathered  around  him, 
As  soon  as  grim  death  with  its  fetters  had  bound  him. 

And  first  on  the  programme,  like  birds  of  ill  omen, 

They  went  for  their  cold,  rigid,  victim's  abdomen, 

And  broke  through  the  walls,  like  bold  burglars  unbidden, 

To  ransack  the  secrets  of  nature  long  hidden, 

And  took  out  his  inner  works,  lungs  and  viscera 

With  neatness,  and  scanned  them  attentively,  very; 

And   pulled    them,   and  stretched   them,  and    twisted  and 

turned  them; 

Kxccpt  where  their  nostrums  had  shriveled  and  burned  them, 
And  probings  and  pundiings  had  changed  their  position, 
They  were  healthy  and  quite  in  their  normal  condition; 
And  it  seemed  from  this  hasty  post-mortem  outgiving, 
Almost,  that  the  subject  should  really  be  living. 


Autopsical.  429 

Then  turning  once  more  toward  the  corpse,  wise  and  solemn, 

They  traversed  the  dim  cerebro-spinal  column, 

And  prospected  upward  and  took  out  the  brain, 

And  weighed  it  and  found  out  its  weight  to  a  grain ; 

Commented,  examined,  inspected  it  long; 

All  healthy,  quite  perfect,  and  nothing  was  wrong. 

And  sorely  the  knights  of  the  scalpel  were  puzzled, 

As  hounds  in  the  reach  of  their  prey  closely  muzzled. 

Then  one,  apropos  of  the  matter  at  issue, 

Said  something  was  wrong  with  the  "adipose  tissue," 

And  one  in  a  manner  half  earnest,  half  dreamy, 

And  thoughtfully  stupid,  suggested  "pyaemia," 

Which  theory  preposterous  raised  such  a  racket, 

He  quickly  subsided,  and  weakly  took  back  it; 

And  another  remarked  of  the  same  in  relation, 

The  trouble  was  due  to  undue  "  inspissation," 

Which  learned,  mysterious,  awful  allusion,  • 

Created  a  flutter  of  classic  effusion. 

Then  others  as  darkly  would  mumble  and  mutter, 
And  talk  back  in  Latin,  quite  "utterly  utter," 
Till  brother  at  last  was  arrayed  against  brother, 
And  looked  with  suspicion  the  one  on  another, 
As  fiercely  they  hurled  their  huge  bolts  scientific, 
Like  giants  aroused,  in  a  manner  terrific. 

All  vainly  their  feelings  they  struggled  to  smother 
With  mutual  effort,  and  glared  at  each  other ; 
Each  word,  look  and  action,  in  hapless  connection, 
Though  quite  unintentional,  seemed  a  reflection 
Of  each  upon  each,  that  the  other  one  slew  him, 
And  each  grabbed  the  part  that  was  nighest  unto  him, 
And  the  air  was  as  thick  with  the  fast-flying  members, 
As  leaves  in  the  gusts  of  the  Eastern  Novembers; 
And  brain,  lung  and  viscera  mingled  and  blended 
In  one  common  wreck  when  the  battle  was  ended. 


430  To  the  Alamcda  Street  Goat. 

TO  THE  ALAMEDA  STREET  GOAT. 
[PICKETED  IN  A  CLUMP  OF  CACTUS.] 


Goat  that  goest  for  the  palm 

Of  the  cruel  thorny  cactus, 
\Yith  a  smile  serene  and  calm, 

In  a  way  to  quite  attract  us, 

;  thou  never  feel  a  pang 
When  the  prickles  cling  and  hang 

In  thy  gutta  pcrcha  throat, 
Or  a  vague,  uneasy  feeling 

In  thy  hidden  depths  remote, 
Through  thy  inmost  being  stealing  ? 

Munching  with  a  calm  content, 

In  a  manner  philosophic; 
Making  no  undue  comment 

lUasphcmous  or  apostrophic; 
Taking  all  things  as  they  come, 
In  one  total  compact  sum — 

How  I  envy  thcc  thy  lot — 
Thankful  for  thy  daily  diet, 

,  or  roasted,  cold  or  hot, 
Taken  in  repose  and  quiet. 

Gentle  goat,  good-night,  and  rest; 

May  no  nightmare  dreams  oppress  thcc; 
May  no  pains  within  thy  breast 

Shoot,  and  rankle,  and  distress  thce. 

May  the  man  that  tied  thcc  here, 
Sleep  with  conscience  quite  as  clear; 

May  he  never  heave  a  sigh 
Over  lesser,  poorer  cheer — 

Gentle  goat,  I  go;  good-bye! 


The  Stock    Wizards.  431 

THE  STOCK  WIZARDS. 


Scene  i — A  dark  den  in  San  Francisco.  In  the  middle  a  caldron 
boiling.  Thunder,  ligJitning,  and  a  strong  smell  of 
brimstone.  Enter  sundry  wizards. 

ist  Wizard. — Thrice  the  brindle  bull  hath  lowed; 

2d  Wizard. — Thrice  and  once  the  grizzly  growled. 

jd  Wizard. — (Broker — cries]— 'Tis  time,  'tis  time  ! 
ist  Wiz. — 'Round  about  the  caldron  go, 

In  the  poisoned  stuffing  throw; 
Damning  lies  to  trusting  friends, 
False  reports  and  dividends, 
Freshly  cooked  and  smoking  hot — 
Boil  them  first  in  the  charmed  pot. 
All. — Double,  double,  toil  and  trouble, 
Fire  burn  and  caldron  bubble. 

2d  Wiz. — Stocks  for  greedy  gullions  baited — 
Crown  Point  and  Consolidated; 
Mexican  and  Occidental, 
Julia,  Alta,  Continental; 
Grant,  Imperial,  (what  a  muck,) 
California  and  Kentuck; 
Overman,  and  Best  and  Belcher, 
Hale  and  Norcross  for  a  squelcher. 
Stir  in  faster,  hurry  !  hurry  ! 
Lady  Bryan,  Gould  and  Curry; 
Modoc,  Savage,  Yellow  Jacket, 
Ophir,  Andes,  (what  a  racket,) 
Bullion,  (bet  your  bottom  dollar,) 
Justice,  Confidence  and  Chollar; 
Woodville,  Utah  and  Exchequer — 
For  a  sudden  homestead  wrecker, 
And  a  charm  of  powerful  trouble, 
Like  a  hell-broth,  boil  and  bubble. 
All — Double,  double,  toil  and  trouble, 
Fire  burn  and  caldron  bubble. 


432  k    \\'izai\!s. 

^d  }\ Y~. — Tooth  from  slimy  serpent's  ja\ 
Skin  of  wildcat,  tail  and  claws; 
Tear  from  "operator's"  eye, 
Sage-brush  tea  and  alkali ; 
Murderer's  bowic,  hangman's  noose, 
Skull  of  idiot,  brain  of  goose; 
Ray  of  sunlight  filtered  through 
Soft  translucent  pane  of  blue; 
Metre  for  consumptcd  gas, 
Hoof  of  mule,  and  ear  of  ass; 
Sting  of  scorpion,  toe  of  lizzard, 
Soul  of  miser,   broker's  gizzard  ; 
Lock  of  shaven  convict's  hair, 
Horn  of  bull,  and  claw  of  bear; 
Waxy  cards  from  gamblers'  den, 
Burglar's  jimmy,  forger's  pen; 
Secrets  from  the  realms  of  evil, 
Gas  from  Comstock's  lowcs:  level; 
Wrinkled  horn  of  mountain  ram, 
Thorn  of  cactus,  spike  of  palm ; 
Woman's  savings,  workman's  bread; 
Manhood's  vigor,  hair  from  head 
Whitened  by  the  frosts  of  years; 
Orphans'  sighs,  and  widows'  tears ; 
Blood-clot  from  the  crimson  tide 
Of  the  perished  suicide; 

le's  beak,  and  vulture's  craw, 
Coil  of  boa,  gulf  and  maw 
Of  the  San  Francisco  shark; 
Ores  extracted  in  the  dark; 
Chlorides  dull,  and  crystals  bright, 
Ruby,  Oxide  Stcdtfeldtite; 
Sulphurets  of  rainbow  hue, 
Orange,  purple,  green  and  blue;' 
Wildcat  ledges,  spurs  and  dips 
Silvered  ere  the  late  eclipse — 


Jim  Elaine.  433 


With  a  miner's  sweat  and  blood 
Make  the  bouillon  thick  and  good. 
Add  thereto  a  little  metal 
For  ingredients  of  our  kettle, 
And  you  have  a  bully  soup — 
Good  enough  for  any  dupe. 

All. — Let  them  drain  the  kettle  dry; 
If  it  gripe  them  and  they  cry 
Like  sweet  babes  that  colics  stir  up, 
Give  them  Winslow's  Soothing  Syrup. 

Grand  Chorus* — Double,  double,  toil  and  trouble, 
Mirage  gleam,  and  glitter  bubble. 


JIM  ELAINE.* 


First,  Last  and  All  the  Time." 


Have  they  flashed  it  o'er  the  wire 

Jim  Elaine, 
How  the  land  is  all  on  fire, 

Jim  Elaine  ? 

Let  them  prate  of  sham  "reform, 
We  are  coming  as  the  storm, 
And  we'll  make  it  mighty  warm, 

Jim  Elaine. 

Let  "dark  horses"  clear  the  track, 

Jim  Elaine  ! 
Bay  or  roan,  or  cream  or  black, 

Jim  Elaine  ! 

You're  the  steed  that  never  tires, 
In  your  pulses  course  the  fires 
Of  a  line  of  conquering  sires, 

Jim  Elaine ! 

:  Written  and  Published  during  the  struggle  in  the  Chicago  Convention  between  Elaine  and  Grant. 

28 


434 


You're  the  tickc-l  that  will  win, 

Jim  Hlainc  ! 
And  we're  bound  to  run  you  in, 

Jim  Blainc! 

Let  your  focmen  sneer  and  flaunt, 
Yours  the  soul  they  cannot  daunt— 
You're  the  man  the  people  want, 

Jim  Blaine  ! 

Have-  they  heard  the  thundcr-b! 

Jim  Blainc  ? 
"\Ve  arc  for  you  first  and  last," 

Jim  Blaine  ! 

From  our  vales  of  bending  vines, 
From  our  labyrinthine  mines, 
From  our  lofty  hills  of  pines, 

Jim  Blainc  ! 

You're  a  man  from  crown  to  heel, 

Jim  Blainc  ! 
And  we  know  you're  true  as  steel, 

Jim  Blainc  ! 

O,  they  tried  to  steal  your  Maine, 
But  their  efforts  all  were  vain, 
And  we'll  beat  them  once  again, 

Jim  Blaine  ! 

Yours  the  motto  high  and  grand, 

Jim  Blainc  ! 
"I;recmcn,  for  proud  Freedom's  land," 

Jim  Blainc  ! 

I  [erc'a  a  toast  to  "Blainc  and  Booth," 
Here's  to  "Justice,  Ki-ht  and  Truth," 
Here's  an  end  to  hatred's  ruth, 

Jim  Blainc  ! 


That  Little  Difficulty  'Twixt  Me  and  Joe  McNulty.      435 

THAT  LITTLE  DIFFICULTY  TWIXT  ME  AND 
JOE  McNULTY. 


What !   didn't  never  hear  of  that — 

That  little  difficulty 
That  happened  down  at  "Sucker  Flat" 

'Twixt  me  and  Joe  McNulty? 

Well,  Joe  and  me,  we  courted  Sal, 
Old  Simpkin's  red-haired  daughter; 

His  only  pride,  his  only  gal — 
That  lived  at  "Stinkhf  Water"— 

That  shallow  reservoir,  you  know, 

Built  by  the  old  man  Story, 
Down  at  them  diggin's,  as  you  go 

From  "Pike"  to  "Ground  Hog's  Glory." 

What !     Never  saw  old  Simpkin's  Sal  ? 

I'd  swear  it  to  a  jury, 
That  she  was  just  the  sweetest  gal, 

That  ever  left  "  Missoury." 

Of  all  bright  things  without  a  flaw, 
Her  eyes  were  just  the  brightest; 

Of  all  white  skins  you  ever  saw, 
Sal's  skin  was  just  the  whitest. 

Well  !  Joe  and  me  we  claimed  that  ground, 

As  I  was  just  remarkin'; 
Though  all  the  other  boys  around 

Done  some  promiscuous  sparkin'. 

•We  sunk  our  shafts  not  far  apart, 

And  drifted  all  directions, 
And  "scraped  the  bed-rock"  of  her  heart, 

And  "creviced"  her  affections. 


436       That  Little  Difficulty    .  md  Joe  McXnl/y. 

Twas  in  the  Spring  of '51, 

I  tried  that  little  spec'  on— 
Took  stock  in  that  big  drift  they  run— 

You've  heerd  of  that,  I  reckon. 

With  Bill,  and  Sam,  and  Andy  White, 

And  many  more  by  countin', 
Up  there  just  back  I's  Delight," 

To  tunnel  "Table  Mountain." 

The  thing  went  up  in  crash  and  smoke, 
(That's  when  your  friends  forget  you;) 

And  left  us  pretty  much  flat  broke— 
'Twas  mighty  rough,  you  bet  you! 

So,  after  them  dark,  cloudy  days 

(I  haven't  yet  forgot  'cm), 
We  went  to  work  to  make  a  raise, 

And  climb  up  from  the  bottom. 

"Rough  ?"  You  can  bet !   But  after  that, 

We  couldn't  live  in  clover, 
But  pitched  our  camp  at  "Cut-throat  I 

To  work  their  tailings  over. 

And  every  mornin'  Sal  came  down 

To  comfort  us  poor  sinners, 
Like  angel  with  her  shinin'  crown, 

And  helped  us  cook  our  dinners. 

And  when  she  tripped  down  to  the  1 
That  we  was  then  at  work  on, 

You  ought  to  seed  the  boys  down  thar 
Their  boots  and  trousers  jcr 

You  ought  to  seed  the  pains  we  took- 

Wc  dried  up  in  a  hi; 
And  trie  k  just  like  that  book 

Got  out  by  "  Lin 'icy  Murray." 


That  Little  Difficulty  'Twixt  Me  and  Joe  McNulty.       437 

No  cuss  words  vain,  or  slang  was  heard ; 

"To  git,"  we  called  it  "vamose/1 
And  when  to  "Long  Tom"  we  referred, 

We  termed  it  "Lengthy  Thomas." 

You  know  them  u Suckers"  giv'  a  ball, 

(That  candle's  out,  dog-gone  it !) 
Jim  Snooks  cum  "down  and  axed  us  all — 

You  bet!  their  boys  is  on  it. 

The  gals  turned  out  from  "Pike's  Divide," 
"You  Bet,"  "Last  Chance,"  "Hell's  Blazes," 

"  Grass  Widow's  Gulch,"  and  "  Whisky  Slide," 
"  Red  Dog,"  and  all  them  places. 

Them  outside  camps  cum  down  hell-bent, — 

"Old  Hundred,"  "Alligator," 
And  "  Murderer's  Bar,"  and  Nigger  Tent," 

"Biled  Owl,"  and  "Small  Potater," 

"  Dead  Broke,"  "  Mad  Mule,"  "  Tin  Cup,"  "  Lone  Star/ 

"Coyote  Run,"  "Rapooyah," 
'Bald  Eagle  Canyon,"  "Mormon  Bar," 

And  "Glory  Hallelujah." 

• 
From  "Angel's  Camp,"  and  "Buzzard's  Roost," 

The  boys  cum  down  by  dozens — 
"Sick  Man,"  "Biled  Shirt,"  "Plug  Hat,"  "Cooked  Goose/ 

And  brought  their  second  cousins. 

'"Hostetter,"  "Blowhard,"  "Heavyswell," 

"  Game  Cock,"  and  "  Turkey  Gobbler," 
"  Port  Wine,"  "  Old  Bourbon,"  "  I  X  L," 
"  Cocktail,"  and  "  Sherry  Cobbler;  " 

With  all  their  gals:  "  Big- Footed  Lize," 

And  "  Hummin'-bircl,"  and  "Myrtle," 
And  "  Yallcr  Jacket,"  "Gimlet  Eyes," 

11  Wild  Rose,"  and  "  Snappin'  Turtle." 


438        That  Little  Difficulty  'Twixt  Mi  and  Joe  McXnlty. 

The  fiddlers  got  the  thing  all  set- 
Struck  up  "Old  Dan'l  Tucker;" 

It  was  the  liveliest  times,  you  bet, 
They  ever  seed  at  "  Sucker." 

Well,  after  several  starts  and  halts, 

(Them  fiddlers  played  like  killin';) 
Some  high-toned  cuss  called  out  "a  waltz  ! ' 
•  And  all  the  gals  was  willin'. 

I'd  never  seed  that  dance  before- 
Each  one  their  partner  luggin' 

And  raslin'  'round  and  'round  the  floor, 
And  rcely  thought  'twas  huggin'. 

Well,  "  Poker  Pete"  of  "Devil's  Gate," 
Waltzed  with  that  gal  of  Gardner'- ; 

And  "  Plug-Hat  Treat,"  hugged  "  Hangtown  Kate," 
And  Joe  and  Sal  was  pardners. 

And  when  that  huggin'  scrape  began, 

(Just  hand  me  that  dee-canter;) 
You  bct,«  I  was  the  maddest  man— 

I  went  for  Joe  instantcr. 

I  took  him  right  betwixt  the  eyes, 
(The  gals  clung  to  their  pardners;) 

And  he  upset  "  Big- footed  Lizc," 
And  she,  that  gal  of  Gardner's. 

And  then  the  boys,  they  all  pitched  in— 

Went  at  it  rough  and  tumble; 
And  every  one  went  in  to  win 

In  one  promiscuous  jumble. 

Well,  there  wr  fit.  ami  fit.  and  fit  — 

bbed  "  liig  Pike"  and  threw  him; 
\\V  went  it  blind,  ami  <-a<~h  man  hit 
The  one'  best  tu  him. 


That  Little  Difficulty  'Twixt  Me  and  Joe  McNulty.       439 

Till  fin'ly  some  one  hollered  out 

To  "  know  what  in  the  thunder 
The  tarnal  row  was  all  about," 

(Some  four  or  five  was  under.) 

I  'lowed  it  was  a  cussed  shame 

(And  others  j'ined  the  chorus;) 
A  low-down,  cut-throat,  swindlin'  game, 

To  hug  our  gals  before  us.  < 

Then  Joe  and  me,  each  for  his  knife, 

Went  like  a  flash  of  lightnin'; 
But  "  Plug,"  called  out  to  stop  the  strife 

For  fear  their  pardners  frightnin'. 

I  swore  I  didn't  care  a  durn — 

(The  gals  kept  on  their  pleadin's,) 
Till  Joe,  he  moved  that  we  adjourn 

For  subsequent  proceedin's. 

Then  "  Bruiser  Bill " — the  cussed  fool, 

He  made  a  slight  suggestion, 
That  we  should  fight 'it  out  "  by  rule," 

And  put  it  to  the  question. 

The  boys  they  giv'  a  grand  hooray, 

And  said  as  how  they  reckoned 
In  order  we  should  have  fair  play, 

Each  one  should  have  a  "  second." 

They  stripped  us  of  our  coats  and  shirts 

Like  any  prize-ring  bruisers 
Who  deal  in  scientific  hurts — 

With  nothing  on  but  trowsers. 

We  pranced  around  with  faces  barked — 

Each  other's  visage  spilin', 
But  as  that  "  Bruiser  Bill "  remarked, 

We  always  "  cum  up  smilin'." 


\'ulty. 

And  then  we  hit,  and  danced,  and  run, 
Jumped  sid  !  ke  spidt 

•  fun — 
At  le;;>t  for  them  outsit. 

11!  each  of  us  tl:  lowed, 

Looked  )il;  ^tatcr, 

When  Sal  burst  through  that  howlin1  crowd, 
To  act  as  "  mejiator." 

Just  then  we  clinched — I'll  not  repeat — 

It  very  little  matte 

Joe  grabbed  me  by  the  trowscrs  seat 
:id  tore  it  all  to  tatters; 

And  then  I  got  his  waistband  foul; 
!  tare  !  went  all  the  stitches, 
The  crowd  sent  up  a  deaf 'n in'  b 
And  down  cum  's  breed, 

Well,  Sal,  she  fainted  right  away; 

The  boys  around  her  hovered ; 
But  Joe  and  me,  we  didn't  stay 

To  wait  till  she  recovered. 

Joe  staggered  in  to  Tom  McCall's 
Like  any  prize-ring  bummer, 

And  got  a  pair  of  overalls   , 

That  he  had  wore  all  Summer. 

» 

And  when,  at  last,  we  ventured  in 
Among  the  ballroom  clatter, 

hough  there  hadn't  been 

A  thing  at  all  the  matter. 

'•ry  at  the  most, 
though  there  might  be  danger, 
,d  nestled  up  almighty  cl 
To  that  coin  T — 


That  Little  Difficulty  '  Tzvixt  Me  and  Joe  McNulty.       441 

One  of  that  kind  that  looks  high-toned, 

With  takin'  sort  of  riggers, 
And  puts  on  airs  as  though  they  owned 

At  least  a  thousand  niggers. 

They  always  dress  and  fix  to  kill; 

As  though  they  don't  a  cent  owe — 
Them  high-toned  chaps  from  Marysvillc, 

And  likewise  Sacramento. 

Well,  both  of  us,  we  felt  so  cheap, 

We  didn't  dare  to  "go  one; " 
Like  dogs  just  caught  a-killin'  sheep, 

We  couldn't  look  at  no  one. 

Joe  never  offered  Sal  his  hand — 

I  felt  as  bad,  and  more  so, 
And  didn't  dare  to  try  to  stand — 

My  pantaloons  was  tore  so. 

My  eyes  was  swelled,  my  heart  was  full — 

That  cuss  with  Sal  was  prancin', 
And  there  I  sot  like  Scttin'  Bull, 

And  didn't  feel  like  dancin'. 

Well  then,  I  s'posc,  of  course  you  know 

That  such  things  always  bothers ; 
And  neither  of  us  couldn't  go 

And  take  her  to  her  father's. 

And  when  that  tarnal  ball  broke  up, 

I  felt  a  sort  of  sinkin' ; 
That  big,  biled-shirted,  high-toned  pup 

Just  went  for  her  like  winkin*. 

Well !  yes — I  s'pose  I'm  better  off, 

A  single  man  can  get  on 
Most  any  way  ;  (goll-darn  that  cough,) 

But  one  thing  you  can  bet  on; 


44-  Dynamo. 

On  all  them  waltzes,  1  am  down, 
(They  make  them  gals  onsteady;) 

Or  else  my  name  aint  "Grizzly  Brown," 
The  "  Boss  of  Rough  and  Ready." 

••Man;  I  dunno — well,  I  guess— 

"And  happy  ?v     Well  1  there's  maybes  ; 

At  least  she's  got  a  pin-back  dress 
And  half-a-dozen  babies. 

And  that,  I  reckon,  mostly  ends 

That  little  difficulty, 
And  now  there  aint  no  better  friends 

Than  me  and  Joe  McNulty. 

"High  times,  and  slightly  rough,"  you  say, 
"  That  style  of  rows  and  musses  ?" 

Well  !  it  may  seem  somewhat  that  way 
To  recent  Eastern  cusses. 

But  you  can  just  bet  all  your  dimes, 
You've  never  knowcd  what  fun  was  ; 

We've  never  had  such  bully  times 
As  them  in  '5 1  was. 


DYNAMO.* 

"Let  there  be  light !"  away  with  night ! 

Behold  the  radiant  sheen 
That  clothes  our  town  from  base  to  crown, 

With  glory's  bla/.c  serene  !- 

Now  falls  no  "darkness  hushed 

There  is  no  "twilight  gray;" 
Our  citizens  forget  to  sleep, 

And  night  is  turned  to  day. 

•Written  upon  the  lighting  of  Los  Angeles  by  electricity. 


Hot!  Hotter!!  Hottest!!  !  443 

No  longer  'ncath  the  shadows  dark, 

Where  witches  love  to  glide ; 
The  young  men  pause  to  light  a  spark, 

Or  in  the  gloom  to  hide. 

What  though  old  Sol  forgets  to  rise 

And  shed  his  puny  rays  ? 
Our  Dynamo  shall  light  the  skies 

With  softer,  brighter  blaze. 

Turn  down  the  gas  !  alack,  alas  ! 

The  olden  slow  regime  ! 
Now  glows  each  spire  with  magic  fire, 

As  in  a  fairy  dream. 

Our  puzzled  cocks  with  feathery  flocks, 

Strut  'ncath  the  brilliant  ray, 
And  scratch  and  fight  by  candlelight, 

And  go  to  roost  by  day. 


HOT!  HOTTER!!  HOTTEST!!!* 


Oh !  for  some  cool  and  shady,  nice  land, 
Some  sylvan  grot  in  Greenland,  Iceland  ! 
Some  place  to  cool  our  desperation, 
Something  to  check  this  perspiration; 
Some  place  not  hot  as  blazing  coal  i:;, 
Quite  near  to  where  the  mystic  Pole  is. 
More  than  a  member  of  the  Senate, 
I  envy  festive  Gordon  Bennett, 
Or  rather,  his  enjoyment  next  year, 
No  longer  heated,  broiled  and  vexed  here. 

The  heat  is  getting  really  horrid, 
Quite  melting,  wasting,  broiling,  torrid ; 
It  is  as  hot  almost,  bcshrew  me  ! 
As  hot — as  hot — as  h — 1  or  Yuma, 

*Written  during  the  late  awfully  heated  term. 


Denis  j . 

<ny  other  well-known  centre, 
That  sad,  unwilling  travelers  enter. 
Oh!  for  some  >  ne  on  ! 

Oh!  for  some  io  t  to  lean  on ! 

Some  cooling  surface  smooth  to 
Some  glacier's  slippery  face  to  slide  on; 
Some  cool  moraine  to  build  a  town  on; 
Oh  !  for  an  ice-floe  I  .vn  on ; 

.d  oh !  to  close  this  painful  topic, 

some  nice  place  less  semi-tropic; 
I  feel  my  reeling  senses  going, 
Oh  !  oh  !— but  what's  the  use  of  O— ing ! 


DENIS  KEARNEY. 


Thou  stall-fed  importation,  fat  and  corny ! 
I       .d-buttockcd,  brawny,  bully,  bellowing  "cuss  !" 

\Yhy  dost  thou  pa\v  the  dust  of  California, 
And  with  our  "  Short  I  Turns  "  .iisc  a  muss  ? 

.kc  not  ;'.  •  :  at  them  thus, 

.ad  ing,  sharp  protuberances  horny — 
We've  trouble  now,  enough,  'twixt  Turk  and  Russ; 

J  your  bray,  and  cease  your  senseless  blarncy- 
O,  1  -y,  empty  Kearney! 

Swelled  nigh  to  bursting  with  a  vain  conceit; 

Broad-mouthed  and  foul — half-horse,  half-alligator, 
That  takcst  thy  slimy  way  along  the  street; 
Thy  empty  nonsense  ccl,  .vds  repeat 

As  man  the  oracles  of  1.  ;  or; 

Oblivion  shall  s;  -sheet 

.  •  ;  later, 

O,  bald-faced,  1  ;,  bovine  bloviat 


John  Doe.  44$ 

JOHN  DOE. 


I  would  like  to  know  your  face, 

•     John  Doe  ! 
Station,  family,  business,  place, 

John  Doc; 

Coming,  flitting  here  and  there, 
Making  trouble  everywhere — 
What  2,  lively  man  you  are, 

John  Doe ! 

You're  a  most  unlucky  cuss, 

John  Doe; 
Always  getting  in  a  muss, 

John  Doe  ; 

Still  of  public  peace  the  foe, 
You  and  festive  Richard  Roe, 
Seeking  trouble,  twin-like  go, 

John  Doe. 

After  breakfast  on  a  "  train," 

John  Doc  ; 
After  dinner,  "  raising  Cain," 

John  Doe  ; 

Still  pugnacious  when  you've  lunched, 
Bunching  men,  and  getting  bunched  ; 
Punching  heads  and  getting  punched, 

John  Doe. 

You're  a  most  egregious  ass, 

John  Doe; 
Never  let  occasion  pass, 

John  Doe  ; 

Raising  riot,  making  din, 
In  some  gilded  place  of  sin, 
Getting  tight  and  taken  in, 

John  Doe. 


446  Join. 


You  arc  worse — I  make  no  bones, 

John  Doc- 
Worse  than  Krown,  or  Smith,  or  Jones, 

John  Doc; 

Still  your  name  the  phalanx  leads; 
Still  you  sow  yourtarc-y  seeds; 
Fill  the  dailies  with  your  deeds, 

John  Doe. 

You're  a  mystery  complete, 

John  Doe, 
Still  with  boon  companions  meet, 

John  Doc, 

Startling  peace  with  lusty  throats, 
Figuring  jn  reporters'  notes, 
Sowing  wild,  obnoxious  oats, 

John  Doc. 

Listen  to  a  friend's  advice, 

John  Doe! 
Let  the  area  sown  suffice, 

John  Doc; 

Whistle  down  your  brakes,  go  slow, 
Hold  your  horses;  whoa,  John,  whoa, 
Curb  your  festive  spirit's  flow, 

John  Doe ! 

Leave  your  tempters  in  the  lurch, 

John  Doc, 
Get  religion,  join  the  church, 

John  Doc; 

With  a  calm,  determined  mind, 
Say  to  Satan,  "get  behind;" 
Throw  temptation  to  the  wind, 
John  Doc. 


"£<?,  the  Poor  Indian!"  447 

I  would  know  about  your  life, 

John  Doe, 
Got  a  sweetheart  or  a  wife, 

John  Doe  ? 

Are  your  relatives  high-toned? 
Arc  you  in  fond  hearts  enthroned, 
Outcast,  fallen  or  disowned, 

John  Doe? 

It  is  very  strange  that  yet, 

John  Doe, 
You  and  I  have  never  met, 

John  Doe, 

Yet  your  name  I  Ve  daily  heard, 
Till  it's  grown  a  household  word; 
Symbol  of  reform  deferred, 

John  Doe. 


"LO,  THE  POOR  INDIAN!" 


[RESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED  TO  YE  NOBLE  APACHE.] 

Lo,  the  poor  Indian !  whose  esthetic  soul 
Finds  36>lace  in  the  festive,  flowing  bowl ; 
(Or  tin-cup  rilled  with  "rot-gut" — all  the  same) 
And  in  pursuit  of  white  or  colored  game; 
Whose  eagle  eye,  with  satisfaction  scans 
The  scalps  of  Yankees  and  of  Mexicans 
With  equal  joy,  to  deck  his  peaceful  lodge; 
Whose  highest  aim  is  how  to  skulk  and  dodge; 
Who  enters  into  Agents'  plans  with  zeal 
(Whenever  there  is  anything  to  steal)  ; 
Who  spends  his  noble  leisure  in  pursuit 
Of  "  grub  "  or  wayward  prospectors  to  shoot ; 


44^ 

Whose  favorite?  pastime  leads  him  to  ami  fro 
Twixt     .  ts  and  Mexico; 

\\"ho,  when  i  vys  "awful  good," 

And  sc •«  t  and  food; 

lablcd  by  a  nation's  "cultured  sense" 
To  loaf,  and  live  at  Government  cxpcn 
Who  dines  on  ham  and  bacon  as  a  rule, 
Nice  sugar-cured,  but  better  loves  a  mi: 
Whose  gentle  hands,  imbrued  in  miners'  gore, 
Still  itch  and  tingle  for  a  little  more — 
His  feet,  proud  Agents  i.  i^ht  to  stray 

In  honest  labor's  hard  and  b;  ay — 

His  feet  have  trod  a  devious  way  of  late 
But  Crook  will  teach  him  how  to  "take  it  straight." 
Hail!  "Honest  Injun!"  noble  brother  red! 
Angelic,  good — especially  dead ! 


PICNIC   POETRY. 


ay  !  away  to  the  greenwood's  shade 

e  the  fresh,  green  youth,  and  the  soft,  sweet  maid 
Delight  'mid  the  fern-clothed  glades  to  n 
And  stuff  each  other  with  cake  and  1< 

:id  candies,  and  fruits  and  pi- 

i  dream  of   •  .ret  Paradise ;* 

While  the  deer  looks  on  with  soft,  wondering  c 
Opened  wide  in  a  mv.tc  surprise 

icm  go  for  the  hard-'  e  'gs, 

While  the  ants  crawl  blithely  up  liml 
Where  the  bumble-1  •  ;ns  around, 

And  the  brindle  bull  l>r'.  round; 

And  the  garter-snake  glides  through  the  long,  green  grass, 
And  the  cent  -in  the  fresh-filled  gl 

And  the  hairy  tarantula  creeps  and  « 
And  the  wildcat  clamors  and  caterwauls; 


The  Landlord's  Story.  449 

And  the  tumble-bug  tumbles,  and  twists,  and  turns, 
And  the  bull-frog  frisks  'mid  the  feathery  ferns; 
And  the  woodpecker  pecks  on  the  pendant  limb, 
And  the  widowed  dove  coos  her  lonesome  hymn, 
And  the  mule  brays  his  anthem  more  lonely  still, 
That  touches  the  heart  with  a  solemn  thrill — 
O,  this  is  living  old  Adam's  way 
Ere  naughty  Eve  led  his  heart  astray ! 
Here  everything  living  is  pure  and  free — « 
Away  !  away,  to  the  greenwood  tree  ! 


THE  LANDLORD'S  STORY. 


[A   TALE   OF   THE   SUMMIT.] 


There  was  hell  to  pay  that  night, 

Forty  men,  and  nary  a  bed ; 
Some  was  drunk,  and  all  was  tight, 
Mostly  on  the  row  and  fight — 

Storrq  within,  and  storm  o'erhead. 

There  was  wrath  and  ruin  wide, 
Infants  woke  from  troubled  sleep  ; 
And  the  snow  fell  soft  and  deep 

Over  all  the  steep  Divide. 

There  was  cussin',  yell,  and  shout, 
Glasses  smashin',  rush  and  din; 

Madly  roared  the  storm  without, 
And  'twas  mighty  rough  within. 

Wimmin  screamed  and  children  criccl- 
There  was  trouble  in  the  camp; 
Now  and  then  some  triflin'  scamp 

Got  a  bullet  in  his  hide. 


45o  The  Landlord's  Story. 

There  was  pistol-practice  fair- 
Only  "pilgrims"  missed  their  aim 
In  that  crowd;  a  larnal  shame- 
Any  one  could  get  a  pair. 

T  was  n't  often  that  we  missed 

In  them  times;  they'd  cook  your  goose 
If  you  did;  took  no  excuse- 
Just  a  slight,  peculiar  twist, 
Steady  nerve  and  supple  wrist, 

Throwed  'cr  up,  and  turned  'cr  loose. 

There  was  seldom  cause  to  taunt— 

.ncl  then  some  reckless  cr. 
With  an  aim  pro-mis-cu-ous, 
Got  a  man  he  didn't  want. 

"What  about  the  cor-puss?"  Pshaw  ! 
Stranger,  you  arc  mighty  green- 
Fixed  it  up  ourselves  between — 

Didn't  need  no  form  of  law. 

We  was  men  of  common  sense — 
When  a  feller  ceased  to  stir, 
Didn't  need  no  cor-o-ncr— 

Planted  him  without  expense. 

"Ruther  lively  ?"  Yes,  you're  right ! 

It  was  that,  and  something  moi 

And,  as  I  remarked  bef 
it  was  mighty  n>u;.;h  that  night. 

It  was  in  them  Washoc  da; 

Crowd.-  and  crowds  of  bummers  broke— 
Not  a  jack-knife  left  to  soak— 

Litin'  out  to  make  a  ra;     . 


The  Landlord's  Story.  451 

Men  with  coin  and  enterprise, 

Minin'  sharps  and  gamblin'  sports; 

Wimmin  of  all  shades  and  sorts — - 
Widders,  grass  and  otherwise. 

Everything  was  full  indoors — 

Miners,  teamsters — mule  and  ox — 
Packed  on  all  the  beds  and  floors, 

Thick  as  sardines  in  a  box. 

Forty  teamsters  on  a  "tare," 

Going  it  with  a  perfect  rush, 

For  the  times  was  mighty  flush — 
Money  plenty — didn't  care. 

There  was  "draw"  and  other  games, 

All  the  boys  was  flush  and  free — 
Disremember  half  their  names — 

Most  forgot  'em ;  let  me  see  ! 

There  was  "Arkensaw,"  and  "Pike," 
"Rot-gut  Sam,"  and  "Cock-tail  Joe," 

"Gotch-cared  Pete,"  and  "Red-mouth  Mike," 
Half  a  dozen  you  may  know. 

Well,  as  I  before  remarked, 

There  was  gamblin'  and  play, 

And  to  pass  the  time  away, 
Some  was  drinkin',  others  larked. 

There  was  poker,  song  and  wine, 

All  the  fun  a  man  desired, 
And  the  boys  was  feelin'  fine, 

Bettin'  high  when  I  retired. 

Sometime  later  in  the  night — 

Maybe  one  or  two  o'clock, 
There  occurred  a  row  and  fight — 

Something  like  an  earthquake  shock. 


452  The  Landlord V  Story. 

Seems  from  Arkcnsaw's  report, 
Nearly  all  the  boys  was  broke, 
Leastways  quit,  to  drink  and  smoke; 

Joe  and  Samule  held  the  fort. 

Joe,  it  seems,  had  staked  his  pile, 
Forty  slugs,  upon  his  hand, 

With  a  gentle  lamb-like  smile- 
Always  had  a  heap  of  sand. 

Samule  throwed  his  buck-skin  belt 
Full  of  twenties  in  the  pot; 

Reached  behind  his  hip,  and  felt, 
Askin'  Joseph  what  he'd  got. 

Joe  remarked,  he  thought  three  kings, 
Safe  to  bet  on  all  the  while — 
Always  went  his  little  pile 

On  them  sort  with  crowns  and  thin 

In  a  bland-likc  way  and  free, 
Samule  said  he  thought  so  too ; 
Likewise,  also  he'd  a  few 

Of  that  kind,  and  throwed  clown  three. 

Decks  don't  seldom  run  that  ways. 

Mostly  always  have  two  pair, 
And  that  both  was  h<>ldin'  tray-, 

Was  a  little  singu-lar. 

Both  seemed  struck  as  with  surp 
Fumbled  in  their  hinder  pant>: 

Looked  iiU<-  each  -  -thcr's  i -\ 

With  a  dark,  >>u-picious  -lance. 

Briefly,  Joseph  didn't  wait- 
Quickly  jumped  upon  his  feet, 

Said  he'd  SOOI1  exterminate 

Any  gent  \\ho  thought  he'd  cheat 


T/ie  Landlord's  Story.  453 

Samule  likewise  said  the  same — 

He  would  clean  out  any  man, 

Who  might  intimate  a  plan 
Laid  to  swindle,  in  his  game. 

That  was  where  the  row  begun — 

Cheers  was  smashed,  the  bar  a  wreck; 
"Six  kings  in  a  poker  deck  ?" 

That  might  do  in  play  for  fun. 

Neither  of  them  didn't  care 

Not  a  continental  cuss 

For  the  money — nor  a  muss — 
Wanted  things  upon  the  square. 

Which  ?  I  reckon  you  are  right — 

"They  was  on  it,"  no  mistake; 
Men  will  mostly  always  fight 

When  a  principle's  at  stake. 

I  was  sleepin'  with  my  wife, 
Heedless  of  the  storm  and  strife, 

Dreamin'  of  Missouri's  shore, 
Of  sweet  childhood's  festive  pranks, 
Playin'  leap-frog  on  its  banks, 

When  a  bullet  struck  the  door. 

Then  my  wife  began  to  weep — 
Couldn't  get  a  wink  of  sleep, 

For  the  noise  them  fellers  made ; 
So  I  loaded  up  with  sand ; 
Took  a  navy  in  each  hand, 

Started  in  to  make  a  raid. 

Knowed  my  wife  was  in  distress — 

She'd  them  foolish  wimmin's  ways — 
Didn't  stop  at  all  to  dress; 
What  a  tab-lo  met  my  gaze  ! 


454  The  Landlord's 

Every  single  feller  thar, 
Strikin'  out  with  knife  • 

Didn't  seem  particu-lar 
As  to  who  he  hit  or  mi- 

I  was  standin'  with  my  toys, 
Slightly  clad  and  un-attirccl, 

To  remonstrate  with  the  boys, 
When  some  cuss  behind  me  fired. 

I  was  startled,  giv'  a  bound- 
Was  n't  mortal,  none  of  that; 

But  I  got  a  painful  wound 
In  the  region  where  I  sat. 

Mad?  You  bet  your  precious  life  ! 

That  would  make  a  preacher  fight; 
There  was  yell  and  shout  and  strife, 

And  I  opened,  left  and  right. 

Then  my  bar-keep'  took  a  hand, 
With  a  double-barreled  shot, 
And  he  made  it  mighty  hot, 

For  he'd  plenty  of  the  sand. 

Lois  popped  like  rotten  c 
Some  was  woun< 
In  the  chest  and  ab-d<>-men  ; 
Soi  peppered  in  the  1 

Well !  the  row  was  quickly  d< 
Wccpo:  ty  ;  had  to  n. 

Fellers  saw  we  had  the  drop' 

On  that  caucus  >nc. 

Arkcnsaw  he  up  an< 

Mild-like,  and  pro})'  ike, 

Tha:  ill  it  all  a  joke — 

idental-likc. 


The  Landlord's  Story.  455 

Then  he  put  the  thing  to  vote — 

Most  with  voices  meek  and  low, 
Murmured  "  yes/'  with  gentle  note — 

Not  a  feller  voted  "no!" 

Only  four  or  five  was  hit 

Bad,  and  still  and  quiet  lay — 

Didn't  have  a  word  to  say, 
Never  objected  a  bit ; 

Took  no  interest  anyway. 

Sam  and  Joe,  of  all  the  crowd, 

Seemed  to  stand  upon  their  guard ; 
Serious-like  and  gloomy-browcci — 

Seemed  to  feel  a  little  hard. 

Then  I  made  a  little  speech ; 

Said  it  was  a  tarnal  shame, 
As  I  took  the  hand  of  each, 

That  a  triflin'  foolish  game, 

Thus  should  end  by  usin'  tools 

In  a  way  quite  free  and  loose; 
Make  them,  like  a  pair  of  fools, 

Want  to  cook  each  other's  goose. 

Then  I  called  on  each  aloud, 

Asked  'cm  all  to  take  a  drink — 
Put  the  motion  to  the  crowd, 

That's  what  got  'cm;  made  'em  think. 

Well,  they  made  me  rcf-c-rcc, 

My  decision  they'd  abide; 
Told  'cm  they  had  best  agree, 

Each  one  treat,  and  then  divide. 

Bet  your  life,  them  boys  was  bricks  ! 

Each  one  spoke  and  said  the  same; 
"Wouldn't  dream  of  swindlin'  tricks 

In  an  honest  business  game." 


45<3  Romeo  and  Jni 

"They  was  peaceful  men  and  -quare- 
1  loncst  as  the  day  was  1< 
Wouldn't  think  of  doin'  wr< 
;  that  trillc  layin'  there." 

"Wouldn't  tech  the  stuff  at  all; 

If  they'd  do  it,  dog  their  skins  !" 
And  they  up  and  giv'  it  nil 

To  a  widder  that  had  twins. 


Runnin'  a  first-class  hotel, 

Didn't  need  much  fuss  nor  art 

In  them  clays  of  tumult;  well, 

yes;  the  business  paid  right  smart. 

Liked  the  business?  Why  of  course — 
Off-hand  men,  and  off-hand  ways — 
Mighty  pleasant  in  them  da_ 

Many  other  things  was  worse. 

you're  right !  'twas  lively  times; 
Never '11  see  their  like  a;srin, 
Men  \\  as  happy,  lose  or  win  ; 

id  n't  stop  to  pick  up  din: 
If  they'd  do  it,  dog  my  skin! 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET. 
[MOI>  ION.] 

Mrs.  Romeo  Montague,  nee  Capulct, 

Took  chloroform  slyly  to  make  her  fo 

Some  sorrow  and  trouble  her  match-making  ma 

Concocted  and  planned  in  conjunction  with  ; 

Who  said  she  must  marry  that  other  young  muff, 

When  she  felt  she  already  was  married  enough. 


Romeo  and  Juliet, 

She  took  it  with  faces,  and  tremors,  and  thrills, 
As  calmly  as  though  she  was  swallowing  pills; 
Then  said  "Now  I  lay  me,"  and  quickly  undressed, 
As  though  she  were  going  to  her  innocent  rest, 
And  blew  out  the  gaslight  and  jumped  into  bed 
And  pulled  up  the  cover,  and  played  she  was  dead. 
They  came  and  they  found  her  and  made  much  ado, 
And  raised  a  tremendous  hullaboloo! 
Wept  oceans  of  tears,  wrung  their  hands,  and  tore  hair, 
And  draped  their  front  door  with  the  sign  of  despair; 
Then  hired  a  hearse  with  its  emblems  of  gloom 
To  haul  her  in  state  to  the  family  tomb. 
A  sleek  undertaker,  the  job  undertook— 
A  man  with  a  grave  sanctimonious  look ; 
And  thus  with  much  weeping,  and  sighing  and  moans, 
They  laid  her  away  with  her  ancestors'  bones 
Where  all  the  old  Capulets — matron  and  maid, 
When  placed  Jwrs  du  combat,  were  cheerfully  laid ; 
And  so  in  her  sweetness,  and  beauty,  and  bloom, 
They  laid  her  away  in  the  cold,  clammy  tomb. 

Then  Romeo  came  through  the  night-shadows  dim — 

(He  owed  some  one  something,  or  some  one  owed  him, 

Which  made  him  quite  anxious  and  careful  no  doubt 

That  no  one  should  see  him  or  catch  him  about) 

In  spite  of  old  Capulet's  lofty  commands, 

A-sighing,  and  moaning  and  wringing  his  hands, 

And  said  he  would  sleep  by  his  Juliet's  side — 

The  tomb  for  the  couch  of  the  bridegroom  and  bride; 

And  told  in  the  fondest  and  tendercst  terms 

His  love  and  his  grief — how  he  envied  the  worms; 

And  more  of  a  similar  tenor,  he  said, 

Well  fitted  to  move  and  disquiet  the  dead, 

And  vowed  that  in  spite  of  the  darkness  and  gloom 

And  bolts,  he  would  burgle  old  Capulet's  tomb ; 

And  then  like  the  maddest  and  craziest  of  fools, 

He  waltzed  'round  the  marble,  and  out  with  his  tools. 


458  Roinco  and  Jin 

Then  Paris,  the  would-be  fond  husband  likc\ 

ke  up  to  the  racket  and  opened  hi 
And  swore  suck  e-robbing  trick  w  .me, 

For  he  had,  himself,  just  pre-empted  that  cla 
In  fact,  he  had  ransacked  sweet  Verona' 
And  came  with  a  cartload  of  lilies  and  flowi 
(A  la  Freddie  Gebhardt)  regardless  of  cost, 
To  show  his  esteem  for  the  loved  and  the  1< 
Frail,  sweet,  fading  emblems  of  beauty  and  bloom, 
To  strew  them  about  o'er  his  lady-!  :nb. 

Then  both  used  some  uncomplimentary  words, 
And  out  with  their  weapons,  and  slashed  with  their  swords, 
Till  Romeo  ;ch  a  neat  little  dig 

That  Paris  fell  down  like  a  knife-stricken 
A  fall  in  the  market,  of  nice  Paris  green, 
As  sudden  a  tumb: 

Then  Romeo  moaned  with  a  soul-sinking  moan, 
And  shuddered  and  groaned,  with  a  heart-breaking  groan, 
And  tossed  off  a  cocktail  of  poison  with  grace, 
With  "  1  lere's  to  my  love !"  in  a  very  brief  space, 
And  made  a  neat  speech,  and  <  ih, 

Dilating  at  length  on  the  beauties  of  death, 
And  paid  some  high  compliments  then  to  her  worth, 
And  called  her  the  dan:  :rl  on  the-  earth  ; 

His  lily,  his  sunflower,  his  ducky,  his  u  i 
And  said  she  was  handsomer  far,  than  in  life- 
Remarked,  so  the  short-hand  reporter  set  down, 
"Come  quickly,  O,  death,  and  my  happi;       -        Wt\  ! 

0  Juliet,  Juliet  !  why  did  you  go, 
And  lea  -done  in  my  heart-bn 

1  die!  but  my  soul  shall  chase  yours  through  the  skies 

till  it  captures  tlic  pi 
O,  truest  and  best  of  the  feminine  sex  !" 
And  then  he  su'.  d  in  his  che 

n  Tule  sl  e  from  h  Vcp, 

. nnent  her  and  weep. 


Romeo  and  Jidiet.  459 

Pale,  cold,  bloody  corpses  lay  scattered  around 

And  Romeo  likewise,  with  never  a  wound. 

She  saw  he'd  been  drinking,  for  there  lay  the  cup 

All  empty — he  never  had  left  her  a  sup, 

And  then  she  upbraided  him,  called  him  a  son 

Of — something,  for  selfishly  leaving  her  none, 

And  then  in  a  passion,  though  only  half-dressed, 

She  plunged  his  pet  bowie  right  into  her  breast, 

Sighed,  shuddered,  and  shivered  and  then  she  was  gone — 

Oh,  wasn't  it  awful — the  way  they  went  on  ! 


POEMS 

BY 


ROSALIE  W.  KERCHEVAL. 


POEMS  BY  ROSALIE  W,  KERCHEVAL, 


A  TROPIC  MEMORY. 


Before  the  eager  faces 

That  gaze  in  awe  complete, 

Within  the  narrow  spaces, 

A  tiger  ever  paces 

With  wild,  impatient  feet. 

By  thronging  gazers  taunted, 

Still  pacing  to  and  fro, 
Though  captive,  still  undaunted, 
By  wild,  fierce,  memories  haunted, 

And  scenes  of  iong  ago. 

\Vhat  dreams  of  life  elysian 

Within  those  burning  eyes  ! 
What  fitful,  wandering  vision 
Beyond  an  iron-barred  prison, 
Of  other  lands  and  skies! 

I  watched  the  changes  stealing, 

Till  some  >vild,  wayward  strain, 
With  its  dark,  restless  feeling, 
And  kindred  strife  appealing, 
Crept  into  every  vein. 


464 


Through  all  my  soul  pervaded 

With  longing  to  be  free, 
l>y  mystic  glamour  shaded, 
The  dim  surroundings  faded 

In  fitful  phantasy. 

Where  marsh  and  jungle  cover, 
And  ilmvcT-croxvned  rivers  pour, 

A  wild,  impassioned  rover 

I  lived  its  free  life  over, 
That  faded  long  before. 

On  o'er  the  desert  fleeting, 

And  like  a  flash  away, 
Where  o'er  dim  levels  mectir 
The  tropic  sun  rays  beating 

Upon  the  white  wastes  play; 

On  to  the  Indian  jungle 

Led  by  some  wizard  power, 
Through  tropic  wild,  and  tangle, 
Where  starry  blooms  bespangle 

Dark  grove  and  woodland  bower- 
No  thing  of  life  resisted 

Our  path  as  on  we  came; 
But  chattering  monkeys  listed, 
And  writhing  serpents  twisted 

Above  with  tongues  of  flame. 

The  ripe  nuts 'ceaseless  patter, 

Swift  fell  the  leaves  among; 
The  parrots'  noisy  < -Utter, 
And  magpies'  song  and  chatter, 

Abo\e  us  swayed  and  swung; 

And  tropic  birds  swift  circling, 

That  started  in  affright, 
With  rainbow  plumage  sparkling, 
In  i  I  he  sunsets  darkling, 

Sailed  far  to  meet  the  ni-ht. 


A    Tropic  Memory.  465 

Through  dark  recesses  dimmer, 

Through  pathways  vague  and  gray, 

Where  never  one  faint  glimmer, 

Or  ray  of  sunlight's  shimmer, 
Might  creep  athwart  the  way ; 

Through  twining  tendrils  trailing, 

That  clutched  us  as  we  passed, 
With  tireless  strength  unfailing, 
Through  silence  dim  prevailing, 

We  followed  far  and  fast. 

Strange  eyes  like  tapers,  peering 
Looked  on  us  through  the  gloom; 

Strange  crested  heads  uprearing, 

That  shrank  before  us  fearing, 
And  swiftly  gave  us  room. 

With  quenchless  thirst  unsated, 

Watched  low  the  midnight  fires, 
Where  travelers  worn,  belated, 
Slept  by  the  embers  fated, 

That  flashed  in  fitful  spires. 

Our  purpose  ne'er  relented — 

Their  efforts  all  were  vain ; 
Their  blood  afar  we  scented, 
And  traced  them  where  they  tented 

Upon  the  sleeping  plain. 

No  treacherous  echo  sounding 

Betrayed  our  stealthy  track; 
With  one  wild  cry  resounding, 
We  sprang  upon  them  bounding, 

And  bore  them  fiercely  back. 

Ah  !  maddening  dream  forever, 

The  memories  of  that  time  ! 
We  felt  them  shrink  and  shiver, 
The  faint  flesh  throb  and  quiver, 

Their  blood  was  sweet  as  wine  ! 

30 


466  A 

And  sated  then  with  slaughter, 

Crept  low  where  moonbeams  fling, 
Upon  the  banks  to  loiter, 
And  watch  the  sleeping  water 
Of  some  sequestered  spring; 

Where  swift  gazelles  came  stealing,. 

And  bending  softly  o'er, 
Scarce  saw  the  forn; 
That  Hung  them  darkly  reeling, 

And  gasping  on  the  shore. 

Or  through  the  branches  parting, 

Looked  out  upon  their  play, 
Till  in  swift  terror  start/ 
Through  field  and  forest  darting, 
They  fled  in  wild  dismay. 

Oh  !  weird,  unbroken  splendor 

Of  moonlight  on  the  glade, 
Where  -.  ranches  slender 

Their  fitful  changes  render 
Of  shifting  li;;ht  and  shade! 

White  gU-ams  of  desert  panting 

Beneath  the  blaze  of  noon ; 
Red-rifted  splendors  flaunting, 
O'er  western  shadows  slanting, 
When  day  began  to  swoon, 

And  through  the  silence 

We  watched  o'er  hill-tops  b; 
The  splendid  sunsets  bla/.i: 
Through  lurid  distance  raising, 
The  desert's  fiery  crown. 

And  started  at  the  clangor 

Of  some  wild  feathered  train, 
From  treacherous  tropic  languor, 
That  stirs  to  sudden  anger, 
Then  softly  melts  again. 


A    Tropic  Memory. 

With  one  .wild  impulse  thrilling, 
Then  like  the  chainlcss  wind, 

Through  deeper  silence  stilling 

The  purple  spaces  filling, 
And  fading  far  behind, 

On  where  the  mirage  dances, 
And  beckoning  lures  ahvay, 

Fleet  as  the  light  that  glances 

Across  the  dim  expanses, 
And  like  a  flash  away; 

'Neath  brighter  dawns  revealing, 

Beyond  blue  uplands  borne, 
Through  fragrant  odors  stealing, 
With  spell-bound  silence  scaling 
The  faint-breathed  Indian  morn. 


Then  writhing,  gasping,  wounded, 

Lay  dying  on  the  plain; 
Wild  eager  voices  sounded, 
Strange  human  foes  surrounded, 

That  scourged  with  lash  and  chain, 


Dull  skies  and  narrow  places, 

The  darkening  changes  fall; 
Blue  reach  of  fading  spaces, 
Strange  speech  and  human  faces 
Close  pressing  over  all. 

Once  more  in  fancy  roaming 

Beneath  the  tropic  stars ; 
Then  waking  in  the  gloaming, 
To  spring  in  passion  foaming 
Against  the  prison  bars. 


463  Among  the  / 

Ah!  with  its  passing  fleetnr    . 

For  one  short  transient  hour, 
With  all  its  full  completes 
To  roam  the  jungle's  sweetness 

In  all  our  olden  power  ! 

Some  strain  in  discord  blending, 
The  trance  of  passion  broke; 
And  with  its  influence  ending, 
The  Present  o'er  me  bending, 
I  started  and  awoke. 

The  wild  weird  fancy  fa 

As  lights  fade  on  the  sea; 
And  realms  so  longinva 
With  all  their  glamour  shaded, 
Drew  back  in  mystery. 


AMONG  THE  FLOWERS. 


Red  rose  ca,rly  ch 

In  thy  splendid  bloom, 
Do  the  night  winds  sighing 

Whisper  of  the  tomb  ? 

Where  the  lii 

Half  expectant  wait, 
Do  the  shad 

Cast  the  webs  of  fate  ? 

Thn>u;.;h  the  chambers  haunted 
By  the  ;m, 

Through  the  hours  undaunted, 
Of  sweet  insect  hymn, 


Among  the  Flowers.  469 

Ever  through  their  sweetness, 

Mingling  with  their  mirth, 
Whispers  of  the  ilcetness 

Of  this  life  on  earth. 

Ever  upward  gazing 

As  in  yearning  fond, 
Where  the  planets  blazing 

Light  the  dim  beyond, 

Wherefore  soft  and  tender 

'Neath  the  jeweled  skies 
Arched  in  solemn  splendor, 

Lift  the  tearful  eyes  ? 

Doth  the  day's  completeness, 

Now  forever  fled, 
Bring  regrets  for  sweetness 

By  the  wild  winds  shed  ? 

Do  the  mournful  measures 

Of  the  night  winds'  strain, 
Sigh  for  nectared  treasures 

Lavished  on  the  plain  ? 

Or  perchance  ye  caring 

Grieve  for  brighter  things — 
Truant  zephyrs  bearing 

Faithless  jeweled  wings; 

Wings  that  woo  forever 

In  the  golden  light; 
Wings  that  shrink  and  shiver, 

Fleeing  from  the  night. 

Where  the  air  grows  crisper 

O'er  each  drooping  bloom, 
Docs  the  night  wind  whisper 

Of  a  blossom's  doom  ? 


470  Among  the 


Of  a  glory  shaded 

Whence  no  light  is  shed  — 
Of  a  fragrance  fa 

Petals  pale  and  dead  ? 


Sighing  that  it  mi 


or  blossom  rare, 
Nestling  'mid  the  tiv 
Of  some  beauty  fair  ? 

Still  the  moonlight  lingi 

Mystical  and  dim, 
Where  weird  elfin  fingers 

Glance  o'er  leaf  and  limb. 

Low  the  south  winds  listen  — 
All  !  what  wizard  hand 

Sets  the  gems  aglistcn 
O'er  the  sleeping  land  ? 

Wondrous  and  transcendant 

In  bright, 

Dcwdrops  blaze  I  Vnt, 

;iched  with  mystic  light. 

And  the  od  Iden 

Fall 
On  the 

But  the  night  winds 
With  their 

mthern 

And  th( 

With  it 
Pal« 


Night. 


NIGHT. 

Thin  fleeting  vapors  veil  the  moon 

In  filmy  robes  of  mist, 
And  folded  petals  faintly  swoon, 

By  murmurous  night  winds  kissed. 

The  fitful  broken  splendors  creep 

In  weird  illumined  waves, 
Where  death  and  twin-born  mysteiy  keep- 

Their  watch  o'er  new  made  graves. 

The  moonbeams  fall  o'er  mourners'  lips, 
Who  kneel  to  count  the  hours ; 

And  lightly  touch  the  crimson  tips 
Of  folded  sleeping  flowers. 

The  mocking  jests  that  mask  the  heart 

To  meet  the  glare  of  day, 
Fade  dimly  from  life's  nobler  part, 

Like  garments  cast  away. 

For  Purpose  craves  a  grander  aim, 

Of  higher  instincts  born, 
Whose  teachings  set  with  secret  shame, 

Life's  sordid  schemes  to  scorn. 

As  voiceless  vapors  drifted  past 

Sweep  southward  to  the  sea, 
Life's  ceaseless  currents  quicken  fast 

Before  Eternity; 

Where  dimly  seen  as  in  a  glass, 

The  fleeting  changes  swoon, 
Of  human  lives  that  flit  and  pass, 

As  mists  before  the  moon. 


472  A   Day  Dream. 


A  DAY  DREAM. 


Over  the  mountains  bending, 
Softly  the  dream-light  falls; 
cy  and  vision  blending, 
int  on  the  purple  walls. 

Wavelets  of  fragrance  quiver, 
Flung  to  the  wandering  breeze, 

Borne  by  its  fleet  wings  ever 
Over  the  shining  seas. 


Violets,  sweet  and  tender, 

Lifting  of  dreamful  eyes, 
Flushed  with  the  noon-tide  splendor, 

Soft  with  the  sunset  skies. 

Rapt  in  a  dreamy  wonder, 
Watching  the  cloudlets  glide; 

Meeting  to  drift  asunder, 
Lost  in  the  misty  tide; 

Glories  of  cloud-land  ever, 

Column  and  castle  ; 
Only  to  fade  an-. 

ler  the  azure  skies. 

Over  the  :  is  dreaming, 

M  in  their  mystic  thrall, 
Bound  by  the  glamour  gleaming 

er  above  it  all. 

Fancies  still  flushing,  fading, 

. 

-  hading 
Faintly  the  far  away. 


Sunset.  473 


Faintness  and  fragrance  lifting 
Softly  their  scented  breath; 

Stir  of  the  petals  drifting, 
Dying  their  splendid  death. 

Closer  the  odors  sweeping, 
Silence  and  fragrance  deep; 

Softly  the  south  wind  creeping, 
Husheth  it  all  to  sleep. 


SUNSET. 


Now  softly  the  wild  bird  calling 
To  his-  mate  from  bush  and  tree, 

While  the  shadows  dark  are  falling 
Far  over  the  boundless  sea. 

And  over  the  sunset  splendor 
That  burns  in  the  crimson  west, 

Steals  the  twilight  soft  and  tender, 
A  prayer  o'er  the  soul's  unrest. 

Still  over  the  billows  leaping 

With  their  crested  waves  of  flame, 

Corne  darkly  the  shadows  creeping, 
Till  the  splendid  light  grows  tame. 

And  softly  the  shadows  sever, 
That  in  darkness  steal  apart, 

Like  the  fitful  fancies  ever, 
That  creep  to  a  restless  heart. 

While  lowly  the  zephyrs  bending 
To  kiss  each  sleeping  flower, 

With  our  life's  sweet  dreamings  ending, 
In  the  mystic  twilight  hour. 


474  I)l  Mcmoriam — /.. 

IN  MKMORIAM— KL'GKXIA* 


Some  faint  enraptured  splendor  lies 

To-day  o'er  all  the  earth, 
Of  those  far  sunny  Southern  skies 

That  smiled  above  my  birth. 

Some  glory  of  the  shimmering  flood 

Whose  mighty  pul^ 

That  thrills  the  warmer  Southern  blood, 
\\  ith  all  its  rapture  s \vcct. 

But  while  o'er  all,  the  splendor  bends, 

The  shadow  la'.'.  -m  ; 

A  darker  memory  meets  and  blends 
;h  light  of  wave  and  bloom. 

It  thrills  some  silent  chord  of  pain, 
With  i:  .ission  fraught, 

And  stirs  tli  ,  ,iin, 

For  something  that  is  not. 

It  whisper-;  how  tlv  rs  deep, 

Lie  '.  .n  the  \\ 

.ering  odors  thrill  and  creep 
Around  thy  lowly  grave. 

I  stand  enrapt  before  that  face — 

A  :  :n, 

Of  all  i'  :ce, 

That  should  have  surely  been. 

And  sad  and  when  all  is  past, 

That  uld  still  endure; 

Than  Life  it  ell     a  >hadow  < 
More  la  lire. 

*  The  dc.ith  of  an  elder 


In  Memoriam — Eugenia.  475 

A  face  smile  from  some  golden  lid, 

That  long  has  pressed  the  mold ; 
When  lustrous  eyes  are  veiled  and  hid, 

And  crimson  lips  are  cold. 

How  dark  and  deep  death's  mystery  lies — 

O,  fairest  of  a  race  ! — • 
That  dust  should  darken  o'er  those  eyes, 

And  dim  that  glorious  face  ! 

What  fiat  of  relentless  doom, 

That  bade  thee  sleep  for  aye, 
Through  all  the  rosy  hush  and  bloom 

Thy  young  sweet  life  away  ? 

The  crimson  petals  faintly  stir 

Beneath  the  fragrant  South; 
As  red  the  crimson  roses  were 

That  clung  around  thy  mouth. 

Sweet  be  thy  sleep  amid  the  hush 

Of  those  far  distant  bowers, 
As  in  the  silent  crimson  flush 

Of  purple  vanished  hours; 

Where  lightly  as  the  pulsing  breath 

Of  fitful  odors  blown, 
The  messengers  of  Life  and  Death, 

Came  each  to  claim  his  own. 

For  me,  the  restless,  feverish  heat, 

The  passion  and  the  pain ; 
But  thine,  a  rest  eternal,  sweet, 

Enclasped  by  sea  and  plain. 

And  there  beneath  the  Southern  sky, 

Each  day  succeeding  borne, 
The  purple  splendors  facie  and  die, 

The  glories  flush  the  morn. 


476  -fling. 


And  fanned  by  fragrant  odors  fleet, 
The  blossoms  bloom  and  blow, 

1  lift  their  wild  flower  faces  swcct- 
l>ut  sweeter  sleep  below  ! 


DAWNING. 


Dimmer  wane  the  tapers 
(  )Vr  the  Orient  world; 

Softer  wreathe  the  vapors 
Throuh  the  silence  curled. 


Distant,  dim,  uncertain, 
1'ale  and  gray  and  wan, 

!  the  misty  curtain 
O'er  the  rising  dawn. 

Far  and  faint  and  tender, 
Tinged  with  golden  light, 

Breaks  the  tide  of  splendor 
On  the  shores  of  night. 


Fading  farther  onward, 

.11  the  shadows  flee; 
Crests  of  crimson  dawnward 
liver  sea. 

\Yh-TC  the  roses  clamber 
O'er  each  crested  height, 

,i  wave  of  amber 
Breaks  the  yellow  light, 

Through  the  silence  solemn 
In  its  splendor  rolled, 

Over  spire  and  column, 
In  a  flood  of  gold. 


To  the  Ocean  Tide.  477 

» 

TO  THE  OCEAN  TIDE. 


Pale  tide  from  the  fount  of  ages  ! 

Baptized  in  thy  primal  flow, 
The  secrets  of  seers  and  sages, 
Dark  volumes  of  unwrit  pages, 

White  lips  of  the  long  ago ! 

In  haunted  unrest,  inherent, 

Still  chafing  Earth's  shifting  sands; 
Unstable,  unchanged,  and  errant, 
Pale  strains  of  the  same  dim  current 

That  laved  the  far  olden  strands; 

Where  Carthage  in  peerless  splendor 

Upbuilded,  rose  dome  and  spire; 
Proud  Athens  in  glory  tender, 
Where  nations  once  knelt  to  render 
Their  homages  low;  and  Tyre — • 

The  song  of  her  sons  from  slaughters, 

A  glory  beside  the  sands ; 
A  ripple  that  stirred  thy  waters, 
A  cry  from  her  red-lipped  daughters, 

And  rending  of  jeweled  hands! 

Fair  cities  of  old  undaunted — 
Proud  rulers  beside  the  seas  ! 
Where  once  the  brave  banners  flaunted- 
But  sighing  of  waves  long  haunted, 
And  burdened  with  memories! 

Oblivion's  mantle  raven, 

Falls  o'er  the  cold,  dreamless  dust 
Of  hero  and  white-lipped  craven, 
Of  scoffer  and  priest  unshaven, 

Suspicion,  and  faith,  and  trust. 


478  To  tttc  Ocean    / 

• 

Where  gp  f  dim  legions  cumber, 

Low-lulled  by  tli 
All  j  of  hostile  mini! 

'Rant,  still,  the  while  sentries  slumber 
\\YJiin  their  dim,  time-worn  graves. 

Above  the  proud  purple  nations, 

Whose  warring  i  the  lands; 

•ncl  their  expiations, 

Who>t>  pride  and  humiliations, 
Lie  buried  beneath  earth's  sands. 

The  \  arc  bro1 

And  Temples  lie  prone  in  dust; 

more  word  or  token, 
le's  lips  once  spoken, 
1  alls  burdened  with  fear  or  trust. 

,pring  the  pale  human  races 

'irish  their  short  decade! 

fainter  traces — 

Then  silence  and  vacant  spaces, 
Where  memories  recede  and  fade; 

* 
Where  monuments  dim  and  hoary, 

O'er  battle  plains  crumbling  meet; 
What  matters  the  fading  story — 
Pale  vaunt  of  a  perished  gl<>ry, 

Twin  records  of  pride — defeat! 

Still  ch;  revolving, 

Thou  rollcst  as  on  that  morn, 
When  sinking,  upheaved,  dissolving, 
From  chaos  and  strife  evolving, 
Creation  had  lijj'ht  and  form! 


"Ttie          rme  479 

'TETE  D'ARMEE."* 


An  alien  from  all  kindred  lands 
Forever  banned  and  barred, 

Still  lone  Helena  silent  stands 
\Vhcrc  sullen  seas  keep  guard ; 

That  held  the  heart  of  high  desire 

Within  its  keeping  cast, 
Till  burned  with  its  consuming  fire 

To  ashes  dim  at  last. 

But  to  the  dying  exile  lone, 
Came  other  scenes  than  these; 

Nor  recked  the  tropic  tempest's  moan, 
That  scourged  the  writhing  seas. 

What  glamoured  reflex  of  the  past, 
Bent  with  its  luring  thrall, 

Whose  fitful  fancies  mocking  cast 
Their  mirage  light  o'er  all  ? 

Low  bends  above,  the  gloomy  arch, 
And  hark  !  upon  the  breeze 

The  fateful  tread — the  hurried  march; — - 
Or  was  it  murmuring  seas  ? 

Upon  the  vision  dim  across,. 

A  glimpse  of  serried  lines, 
Where  stormy  branches  wave  and  toss, 

As  thrilled  with  martial  signs. 

What  matters  where  he  lowly  lies, 
Beneath  the  clouds  low  hung, 

And  sees  with  those  dim,  failing  eyes 
The  battle  standards  flung — 

*  The  last  words  of  Napoleon,  as,  an  exilo,  he  lay  dying  in  a  tropic  thunder  storm. 


480  ''// 


The  memory  of  the  past  recedes — 

Tlv  Kile  pain, — 

Bcfo  g  hosts,  he  leads 

To  victory  once  again. 

The  ranks  in  combat  toss  and  sway, 

The  tropic  thunders  ihrill ! 
And  once  again — Ah!  "Tetc  d'Arme'e! 

JKad  of  the  army  still. 


FROM  THK  PAST. 


She  saw  the  far-off  gleaming 
Of  moonlight-silvered  swards ; 

And  half  in  absent  dreaming 

She  touched  the  sounding  chords; 

Whose  vibrant  echoes  firmer, 
Gave  back  some  haunting  tone, 

With  every  strain  a  murmur, 
And  every  note  a  moan. 

What  weary  heart  confession — 
What  dream  of  other  days, 

In  all  its  olden  passion, 

Crept  down  the  shining  ways  ! 

The  restless  hands  moved  slower, 

\  ith  mcmor 

The  bended  head  bowed  lo\\ 
fore  the  ivory  keys. 

What  th-nigh  the  low  winds  listened 
Or  dimmed  the  dusky  eyes; 

Perchance  but  dewdrops  glistened 
Without,  from  starry  skies. 


THE   CRUSADERS. 


Swift  sprang  the  faithful  numbers 

To  wrest  that  land  of  old, 
Where  Christ's  sweet  memory  slumbers, 

From  out  the  Pagan's  hold. 

The  land  where  hearts  kept  turning, 
With  sacred  memories  fraught, 

That  with  their  spirits  yearning, 
The  pilgrims  long  had  sought; 

When  faint  with  sin  and  passion, 

To  press  the  rocky  floor, 
And  kneel  in  faint  confession, 

Where  oft  He  knelt  before. 

To  feel  each  breeze  that  loiters, 
Touched  with  some  spell  divine; 

To  watch  above  the  waters, 
The  stars  of  heaven  shine ; 

That  seemed  to  bring  them  nearer,. 

In  that  far  land  He  trod, 
And  holier  still  and  dearer, 

The  memory  of  their  God. 

But  now  the  dark-browed  stranger 

Held  keeping  of  the  land, 
And  awed  with  threatening  danger 

Each  lonely  pilgrim  band. 

And  weary  palmers  taunted, 

Turned  from  the  holy  gate, 
Where  insolent,  undaunted, 

The  scornful  Moslem  sate; 
31 


482  The  Crusaders. 

\Yith  insults  sore  reviling, 

Spurned  Christians  'ncath  his  feet; 

Strange  banners  waved,  defiling 
Each  olden  spire  and  street. 

The  Christian  light  burned  dimly, 
The  sacred  glory  waned 

O'er  crypt  and  altar  grimly, 
By  heathen  hands  profaned. 

And  o'er  the  deserts  dreary, 
That  lengthening  lay  between, 

Came  pilgrims  worn  and  weary, 
Disheartened  from  the  scene. 

Proud  kingly  hearts  swift  leaping, 
Roused  at  the  Hermit's  call ; 

O'er  king  and  peasant  sweeping, 
Alike  o'er  one  and  all, 

Wild  indignation  filling 

The  hearts  of  high  and  low ; 

With  one  wild  impulse  thrilling, 
The  cry  ."God  wills  it  so!" 

Like  ocean  billows  drifted, 
The  human  surges  toss  ; 

E'en  childhood's  arm  is  lifted 
To  bear  the  sacred  Cross. 

Through  countless  dangers  thronging, 
Mid  desert  heat  and  sand, 

Faint  hearts  were  turned  with  longing 
Unto  that  cherished  land. 

Through  midnight  darkness  groping, 
Through  burning  noontide  heat, 

Still  ever  praying,  hoping, 
His  hand  upheld  their  feet 


The  Crusaders.  483 

What  though  they  fell  and  perished 

Beside  the  weary  way; 
The  holy  cause  they  cherished, 

Should  live  for  all  and  aye. 

With  mingled  joy  and  pity, 

With  prayers,  and  tears,  and  sighs, 
They  saw  the  Holy  City 

Upon  their  vision  rise. 

With  tears  of  wild  thanksgiving, 

What  fervent  prayers  were  said  ! 
What  fond  hopes  for  the  living  ! 

What  memories  of  their  dead  ! 

What  rapture  of  devotion, 

As  there  they  knelt  and  wept ! 
Then  on  with  one  emotion, 

The  tide  impetuous  swept. 

Across  red  fields  of  slaughter, 

O'er  dark  defenders  slain, 
Where  never  foe  gave  quarter 

That  beat  to  earth  again, 

With  frenzied  strength  assailing, 

Prevailing  day  by  day, 
Until  exhausted,  failing, 

The  Moslem  ranks  give  way. 

The  surging  tides  are  drifted 

Upon  the  city's  walls  ! 
The  Cross  triumphant  lifted — 

The  Moslem's  Crescent  falls  ! 

On  through  the  conflict  dashing 

When  Othman's  dark  hosts  fly, 
'Ncath  blood-stained  sabres  flashing, 

"  God  wills   it !"  rings  the  cry  ! 


484  Transformation. 

With  zealous,  swift  endeavor, 
Lay  low  each  Mosque  and  Fane, 

The  last  faint  trace  forever, 
Of  bigot   Pagan's  reign  ! 

Regardless,  heedless,  whether 

The  strife  be  swift  or  slow, 
Pale  Christians  heaped  together 
.  With  many  a  Moslem  foe  ! 

The  trump  of  victory  pealing 
Its  joyful  glad  surprise, 

The  dawn  of  triumph  stealing, 
Lit  not  thc'r  darkened  eyes! 

No  strife  their  dreams  encumber 
Beneath  those  alien  skies, 

Where  evermore  they  slumber 
With  life's  great  sacrifice. 


TRANSFORMATION. 

Softly  the  zephyr  roaming, 

Wandcrcth  through  each  bower; 

Faintly  the  twilight  gloaming 
Settlcth  above  each  flower. 

Soft  'ncath  the  distance  shading, 

Stcalcth  the  twilight  gr. 
Over  the  mountains  fading 

Flccth  the  light  of  day. 

Dimly  the  glamour  cloudrih 

Faint  o'er  the  night-Wreaths  dun; 

Weirdly  the  twilight  shruudcth 
Lily  and  rose  in  one. 


Transformation.  485 

Silence  alone  reposeth 

Over  the  solemn  space ; 
Dimly  the  nightfall  closeth 

Over  each  flower  apace. 

Far  o'er  the  distant  ranges, 

Down  through  the  vales  below, 
Presage  of  fitful  changes — 

Glimmer  and  golden  glow. 

Brighter  the  dewdrops  glisten, 

Rays  from  a  jewel  flung; 
Drooping  of  heads  to  listen 

Songs  by  the  night  wind  sung. 

Glory  of  gleam  and  glitter 

Over  Earth's  silver  breast ; 
Faintly  the  night  birds  twitter 

Far  from  a  distant  nest.  • 

Waving  of  jeweled  grasses 

Crowned  with  a  star-lit  gleam  \ 
Fainter  the  fragrance  passes, 

Dim  as  an  Orient  dream. 

Over  the  splendor  laving 

Softly  the  sleeping  lands, 
Glimpses  of  pampa  waving 

Weirdly  their  mystic  hands,. 

Wandering  star-beams  quiver 

Lost  in  a  dim  repose  ; 
Lilies  that  sigh  and  shiver, 

Petals  that  faintly  close 

Soft  through  the  silence  tender 

Over  their  hearts  of  gold; 
Under  the  midnight  splendor, 

Mysteiy  all  untold. 


486  Summer  Time. 


SUMMER    TIMI-. 

Oh,  sweet  perfume  of  bud  and  bloom, 
On  west  winds  faintly  winging, 

I  almost  hear  the  voices  clear 
Of  blue-bells  softly  ringing  ! 

Of  elfin  hands  that  break  the  bands 

Around  each  floweret  closing, 
That  spring  to  life,  with  visions  rife, 

Their  glory  all  disclosing; 

Of  voices  fleet,  as  swift  and  sweet 

As  fairy  echoes  ringing, 
That  softly  breathe  where  blossoms  wreathe, 

Their  balmy  odors  flinging. 

The  wild  bees  cling  where  garlands  swing 

In  dreamy  fragrance  sighing, 
Within  each  cell,  where  echoes  dwell, 

To  list  their  low  replying. 

The  tendrils  twine  in  shade  and  shine, 

'Mid  leafy  coverts  gleaming, 
And  redly  turn  where  blossoms  burn, 

Like  crimson  banners  streaming. 

A  brighter  gleam  o'er  hill  and  stream, 

And  on  the  shining  river, 
Whose  pulses  thrill  tin:  petals  still, 

That  idly  dance  and  quiver. 

By  fragrance  stirred,  each  fleet-winged  bird 
Sends  from  its  free  heart  \\elling, 

A  wild,  sweet  song  that  lingers  long 
Above  the  blossoms  swelling. 


To  a  Dead  Dove.  487 

The  zephyrs  stray  o'er  bloom  and  spray, 

In  tender  silence  grieving, 
And  linger  yet,  as  in  regret, 

With  wayward  footsteps  leaving. 

And  over  all,  the  splendors  fall 

Of  sunset  glories  dying, 
And  shadows  creep  where  flowerets  sleep, 

Beneath  the  south  winds  sighing. 


TO  A  DEAD  DOVE. 


At  rest  with  wings  extended 

As  if  to  soar  away  — 
Thy  flight  at  last  is  ended  — 

Thou  mayst  not  rise  to-day. 

O  nevermore  at  morning, 
To  chase  the  fleeting  hours, 

O'er  dewdrops  bright  adorning, 
The  folded,  sleeping  flowers. 

Nor  yet  to  seek  the  meadow, 
Beneath  the  sunset  skies — 

Upon  thy  breast  a  shadow, 
And  in  thy  darkened  eyes. 

Before  the  footsteps  ranging, 
Thou  liest  strangely  tame  ; 

And  day  or  nightfall  changing, 
To  thcc  are  but  the  same. 

Within  the  grassy  hollow, 
Thy  rest  is  deep  and  long; 

Too  deep  and  dark,  to  follow 
Such  short,  sweet  life  of  song. 


488  Italy. 


ITALY. 

Madonna  faces  saintly, 

From  dim  historic  walls, 
Gaze  o'er  the  waters  faintly, 

When  twilight  softly  falls. 

And  dying  Saviours  sadly, 

Whose  brows  the  thorns  entwine, 

Look  down  when  mirth  rings  madly, 
Look  over  song  and  wine. 

The  subtile  spirit  lingers 

In  molten  glory  rolled, 
That  moved  the  Masters'  fingers, 

And  stirred  their  souls  of  old. 

O,  Land  of  sleeping  ages ! 

Of  splendors  rich  and  strong, 
That  lightcth  History's  pages 

With  poetry  and  song. 

Vcnetia's  far-famed  story, 

Italia's  southern  sea, 
Of  streets  in  shining  glory 

That  mirror  tower  and  tree; 

Where  sweet  song  swells  and  loiters 

In  silvery  accents  clear, 
Sung  on  the  shining  waters 
man}-  a  gondolier. 

Where  ruins  dim  encumber, 

;ne's  Coliseum  1! 
Her  gladiators  slumber 

Beneath  thine  ancient  skies. 


Italy.  489 


Here  Caesar's  voice  hath  faded 
With  false  ambition's  fire, 

'Neath  dust  and  darkness  shaded 
With  Carthage  and  with  Tyre. 

And  Antony's  strange  story, 
Who  counted  death  but  sweet, 

And  lost  his  crown  and  glory 
At  dark-eyed  Egypt's,  feet. 

Proud  purple  Kings  in  splendor, 
Lie  with  plebeian  dust; 

Pride  must  at  last  surrender 
The  grave  its  crown  and  trust. 

The  Tiber's  waves  are  haunted 
By  memories  dim  of  yore, 

When  armies  stood  undaunted. 
Upon  its  sighing  shore. 

'Neath  Adriatic's  water, 

Upon  earth's  war-worn  breast, 
From  rapine  dark  and  slaughter, 

The  Roman  Legions  rest. 

Proud  footsteps  echo  never 
Through  Vcii's  ancient  halls ; 

O'er  King  and  Crown  forever 
The  solemn  silence  falls. 

O'er  buried  fleet  and  treasure, 
The  sea  waves  beat  as  slow, 

The  same  dark,  ceaseless  measure, 
As  in  the  long  ago. 

But  war's  dread  strife  and  wonder 
Shall  thrill  the  land  no  more; 

The  echoes  of  its  thunder 
Have  died  along  the  shore. 


490  Imfcpcmlcnce  Day. 

By  every  breeze  borne  drifting 
Above  the  lifeless  sands, 

Pale  ghosts  of  Empire  lifting 
Their  shadowy  spectral  hands. 

The  moonbeams  pale  and  tender, 
Look  still  as  calmly  down, 

As  in  their  olden  splendor, 
O'er  glory  and  renown. 

O'er  crumbling  tower  and  column 
That  moulder  in  d.-cay; 

Strange  spectres,  weird  and  solemn, 
Of  greatness  passed  away. 

O,  birthplace  of  a  Nation, 
Whose  glory  history  thrills, 

Thou  sitt'st  in  desolation 
Upon  thy  seven  hills  ! 

The  tides  of  life  have  drifted 
From  out  thy  palsied  hands; 

Thy  haggard  face  is  lifted 
Above  the  sleeping  lands. 


INDEPENDENCE  DAY. 

With  martial  tread  and  gleam  of  steel, 
And  echoing  thunders  peal  on  peal, 
Till  dewy  eve  from  break  of  morn, 
We  keep  the  day  that  thou  wast  born. 
We  keep  this  day,  a  Nation's  pride, 
In   honored   trust;  full   far  and   wide 
The  volleyed  thunders  darkly  break, 
And  bid  the  sleeping  echoes  wake, 
While  loudly  still  each  towering  steep 
In  mufiicd  tones  makes  answer  deep. 


Independence  Day.  491 

^Through  lowly  vale  and  lofty  hill, 

The  throbbing  thunders  crash  and  thrill, 

As  bidding  with  a  mighty  voice 

A  glorious  Nation  still  rejoice. 

Thy  bannered  squadrons  float  afar 

'Neath  tropic  heat  and  polar  star ; 

And  ready  yet  to  conquer  still, 

Who  dares  oppose  thy  sovereign  will, 

Together  sail  the  oceans  o'er, 

To  seek  the  earth's  remotest  shore. 

In  Summer's  heat  and  Winter's  storm,. 
Thy  brave  defenders  still  will  form, 
And  conquering  armies  in  their  pride, 
Triumphant  still  stand  side  by  side  ; 
With  dauntless  will  to  do  and  dare, 
They  guard  thy  fame  with  jealous  care. 
In  every  land  and  every  zone 
Thou  rcachest  forth  to  claim  thine  own. 
Thy  shining  emblem  is  unfurled 
In  peace  above  a  smiling  world. 

Thy  starry  flag  floats  on  the  breeze, 
O'er  distant  lands  and  distant  seas  ; 
Its  gleaming  stars  are  flung  on  high 
To  meet  their  kindred  in  the  sky, 
And  every  breath  the  canvas  fills, 
A  Nation's  heart  exultant  thrills. 
O,  Thou  who  holdest  sea  and  land 
Responsive  to  Thy  dread  command, 
Oh!  keep  us  still  secure  from  thrall, 
Though  kingdoms  quake  and  empires  fall  ; 
Still  may  our  flag  in  triumph  just, 
Wave  o'er  the  Union  and  its  trust! 


492  The  Leader's  Panic. 


THE  LEADER'S  FAME. 

\Yhcrc  the  lightnings  leap  with  their  lurid  death, 

And  the  gory  ranks  lie  strown, 
And  the  banners  lift  with  a  fitful  breath, 

To  the  blare  of  the  bugles  blown ; 

\Yhcrc  the  smoke-wreaths  pall  like  a  cloud  o'er  all, 

And  the  dark  ranks  break  and  close, 
Ah,  the  few  shall  stand,  where  the  many  fall 

With  each  face  to  the  flying  foes! 
******** 

With  a  martial  stride  and  a  glance  of  pride, 

Lo  !  the  Leader  comes  to-day  ! 
And  the  bugles  call  over  roof  and  wall, 

And  the  garlands  bestrew  the  way ; 

With  the  witching  v;lc  of  proud  beauty's  smile, 

And  the  plaudits  of  the  brave, 
While  the  wild  cheers  float  from  each  lusty  throat, 

And  the  banners  of  triumph  wave. 

Do  no  echoes  come  from  the  fields  hard  won, 

Where  the  hosts  sleep  side  by  side, 
That  the  garnered  sum  in  the  fame  of  one, 

Should  be  sung  over  mount  and  tide? 

For  the  red  floods  poured  with  their  life  wealth  stored, 

That  the  brimming  cup  of  fame 
With  its  priceless  draught  should  be  proudly  quaffed, 

Hy  the  one  with  an  honored  name. 

Lo!  the  soldiers  sleep  through  the  silence  deep 

Of  the  dim  unhonorcd  hours — 
But  it  must  be  sweet,  that  a  Leader's  feet 

Should  be  fondled  and  clasped  with  flowers! 


Cleopatra's  Last  Soliloquy.  493 

CLEOPATRA'S  LAST  SOLILOQUY. 


In  an  inner  chamber  hidden,  in'  a  recess  lies 

A  quaint  casket — carved  and  graven  fruits  of  paradise; 

There  I  keep  a  priceless  jewel,  till  this  hour  unworn — 

Till  I  meet  that  conquering  Caesar  with  his  own  proud  scorn. 

Such  a  wondrous  jewel,  that  the  magic  of  its  charm 

Lifts  forevermore  the  wearer  from  all  strife  and  harm. 

Bring  the  casket  here  before  me  ;  place  it  by  the  throne  ! 

Iras,  I  have  need  no  longer — leave  me  now  alone! 

Fling  the  window  wider  !   I  would  dream  once  more  again, 

For  a  mystic  scroll  the  river  reaches  o'er  the  plain, 

Where  so  oft  upon  its  bosom,  'neath  soft  perfumed  gales, 

Have  the  golden  galleys  borne  me  with  their  silken  sails; 

Fled  those  days  forever  !  Ah  !  that  life  half  understood — 

Like  a  chain  of  lustrous  Summers  lost  beneath  its  flood! 

Ah!  the  deep  delicious  pleasure  of  life's  charmed  draught 

With  its  sweet  intoxication  eagerly  I  quaffed ; 

But  the  priceless  sweet  elixir  sinks  into  the  sands, 

As  the  golden  goblet,  shattered,  falls  from  out  my  hands ! 

Yet  again,  O  Egypt !  falls  the  morning's  crimson  glow 

O'er  the  fruitful  fields  whose  reaping  I  shall  never  know  ! 

Still  the  Sphinx  unmoved  looks  onward,  and  his  vigil  keeps, 

Where  the  centuries  drift  around  him  sands  from  out  the  deeps; 

But  no  hint  or  sign  of  passion  stirs  those  stony  lids, 

That  beyond  the  desert  gazing  watch  the  pyramids ! 

How  the  hot  breeze,  scarcely  stirring  through  the  sultry  calms, 
Faintly  o'er  the  languid  lotus  lifts  the  low-leaved  palms  ! 
Silence  dim,  oppressive,  till  my  heart  in  its  wild  strife, 
Seems  the  only  thing  that  vibrates  to  the  thrill  of  life ! 
Oh  !  if  only  thus  forever,  bound  as  by  a  spell, 
Lotus-thralled  and  lapped  in  languor — then  would  it  be  well  ! 
But  the  gleaming  waters  glisten,  rising  far  and  wide, 
As  a  boding  symbol,  higher  creeps  the  swelling  tide; 
What  to  me  the  mocking  promise — plenty  once  again, 
Bended  sheaves  and  ripened  harvests  burdening  all  the  plain  ? 


494  Cleopatra  s  Last  Soliloquy. 

If  but  now  forever  at  the  cursed  Roman  tread 

Might  the  sunken  waters  leave  the  land  all  parched  and  dead  ! 

But  to  think  the  ceaseless  seasons  shall  go  on  and  on, 

Kach  in  its  abundance,  though  I  perish  and  am  gone — 

I  lighcr  rise,  O  Nilus  !  higher,  higher  over  all — 

If  for  once,  the  waters  might  forget  to  ebb  and  fall  ! 

How  unchanged  seems  still  all  nature;  here  but  erst  the  while 

Where  the  hostile  hosts  of  Empire  faded  at  my  smile; 

When  the  victor  was  the  vanquished,  with  his  martial  bands, 

In  the  bloodless  warfare  wielded  by  a  woman's  hands. 

Ah !  Rome's  wrath  unbounded,  as  she  watched  the  white  moons 

burn, 

And  her  wayward  Consul  lingcrcJ  heedless  of  return  ! 
But  this  passionless  pale  Caesar  cold  to  beauty's  charms — 
Thinks  he  then,  I  shrink  and  tremble  at  his  dread  alarms  ? 
Let  him  come  with  double  vengeance — since  my  feet  are  set 
In  dim  paths  he  fears  to  follow;  aye,  unconqucred  yet  ! 
Longer  still  most  valiant  Caesar,  seek  for  captives  fair  ! 
Longer  still,  O  pale  Octavia,  wait  with  vengeful  air  ! 
Would  those  fading  eyes  rekindle  with  triumphant  light, 
But  to  sec  thy  haughty  rival  humbled  in  thy  sight  ? 
Dream  ye  then  in  madness,  that  I  grace  a  captive  train — 
Meekly  at  some  conqueror's  bidding  clank  a  gilded  chain  ? 
Not  by  all  the  powers  above  me — though  Fate's  flood sbutpou red  ! 
Though  the  Angel  stood  before  me  with  his  flaming  sword  ! 
Ah  !  gaze  on,  my  Roman  matron,  till  your  eyes  arc  dim ; 
E'en  as  once  you  gazed  in  wonder,  waiting  long  for  him — 
Him  who  came  not  back  unto  you  !  came  not  back  to  Rome  ! 
Him  to  whom  across  the  ocean,  all  was  as  its  foam  ! 

Ah  !   I  dream  forgetful — come  my  eunuchs  pallid  faced — 
But  I  know  too  well  the  tidings  that  they  bring  in  haste  ! 
Lo  !  come  forth  my  fiery  captive — patience  still  to  thec  ! 
But  a  few  more  fleeting  moments  and  we  both  arc  free. 
Cease  thy  foolish  struggles — why  this  aimless  frenzy  vain? 
What  knowst  thou  of  weary  longing,  or  of  captive  pain  ? 


Along  the  Shore.  495 

Thou  hast  never  reigned  o'er  empire — gained  or  lost  a  throne  ! 
Pride's  fierce  fires  thy  soul  consume  not,  as  they  do  mine  own  ! 
Lo  !  the  Fates  before  me  linger;  nobler  this  and  best ! 
Be  the  fateful  sign  and  symbol  clasped  unto  my  breast ! 

Speed  !  thy  mission  ended,  swiftly  glide  'ncath  arch  and  vine, 
Free  to  seek  sweet  freedom ;  go  !  since  ye  insure  me  mine ! 
How  the  deadly  currents  quicken,  and  the  tremors  start, 
Hasting  now  with  each  pulsation  to  my  waiting  heart ! 
Farther  from  the  distance  seem  the  murmurs  in  the  street; 
On  the  heavy  air — in  faintness,  how  the  odors  beat! 
Ah  !  the  lethargy — that  deadens,  dulling  heart — and  brain — 
Caesar  comes — with  all — his  legions — Ah  !  not  yet — in  vain  ! 


ALONG  THE  SHORE. 


The  gray  tide  that  loiters, 
Creeps  outward  and  in, 
While  billows  swell  far 
Beyond  the  white  bar 
Where  strange  sea-gulls  skim; 
Day's  light  o'er  the  waters 
Broods  cheerless  and  dim. 

The  sea-weed  that  lingers 
All  clammy  and  cold, 
Convulsively  clasps, 
With  faint,  nerveless  grasp, 
When  billows  are  rolled, 
Like  clutch  of  dead  fingers 
That  seek  for  some  hold. 

And  darkly  resisted 
By  rude  billow  shocks, 
That  circle  and  swing, 
The  faint  mosses  cling, 
Like  pale,  yellow  locks 
All  tangled  and  twisted, 
Around  the  dark  rocks. 


496  A  fang  the  Shore. 

Then  back  with  each  token 
The  dark  current  slips, 
That  sobbing  sinks  lower 
Along  the  far  shore, 
That  oozes  and  drips 
Through  silence  unbroken, 
Of  cold,  clammy  lips. 

From  caverns  long  buried, 
Pale  sea-shell ;  arc  tossed, 
Like  white  spectral  hands 
Across  the  dark  sands 
In  penitence  crossed, 
Then  outward  arc  hurried 
Forever,  and  lost. 

And  when  the  wild  .surges 
In  passion  arc  flung, 

And  trcach'rous  hands  reach 
Along  the  far  beach — 
With  strange,  mournful  tongue, 
The  dark  moaning  dirges 
Arc  chanted  and  sung. 

Through  swift  billows  breaking, 
When  wild  murmurs  swell, 
What  dazzling  tints  bright 
Swift  leap  to  the  light 
From  sca-wccd  and  shell, 
Till  waters  forsaking 

Dissolve  the  bright  spell  ? 

With  wild  longings  tender 
For  phantoms  as  frail, 
Still  o'er  the  dim  lands 
We  lift  our  faint  hands, 
Then  murmur  and  wail, 
To  find  that  their  splendor 
J  ,  worthless  and  pale. 


Along  the  Shore.  497 

Still  colder  and  firmer 
Around  their  pale  graves, 
What  secrets  untold, 
Thy  dark  waters  hold 
Within  their  far  caves, 
Faint  swept  by  the  murmur 
Of  low  distant  waves  ? 

Cold,  colder  and  cruel, 
Unmeasured,  unknown, 
What  phantoms  unfold, 
Within  thy  dark  hold 
Through  silent  depths  lone,. 
With  treasure  and  jewel 
And  mystery  strown? 

And  o'er  the  far  spaces 
In  solitude  spread, 

Where  waters  sink  low 
With  faint,  sobbing  flow, 
Like  wild  words  unsaid, 
O'er  white,  solemn  faces 
In  secrecy  dread, 

What  bright  lives  unclouded 
Here  ended  as  one, 
Within  thy  dark  tide 
Laid  low  in  their  pride  ; 
What  laurels  unwon, 
What  fond  hopes  enshrouded, 
Forever  undone ! 

With  no  dream  elating 
Thy  dark  memories, 
In  restless  regret 
Thou  wouldst  not  forget, 
Make  moaning  for  these ; — 
For  fond  hearts  still  waiting 
2  Beyond  the  dark  seas. 


A   Golden  Summer. 
\  GOLDEN  SUMMKk. 


What  though  life  last  a  hundred  years, 

A  hundred  Summers  come, 
If  missed  from  all  its  shining  peers 

The  pcrfcctncss  of  one  ! 

The  mountains  stand  as  long  they  stood, 

The  Summer  seems  divine; 
And  over  all  the  fragrant  flood 

The  crimson  petals  shine. 

The  golden-girdled  light  steals  on 

O'er  opal-tided  seas, 
As  in  the  early  crimson  dawn 

Of  earth's  first  memories. 

Perchance,  some  song  through  all  the  years 
Thrills  o'er  the  gladdened  earth, 

Since  first  the  shining  silver  spheres 
Sun-  at  Creation's  birth. 

And  still,  by  every  season  told, 

Through  all  its  chan;M:i;,r  hues, 
i  cycle  that  succeeds  the  old 
Its  promise  sweet  renews. 

Through  bending  bloom  and  insect  hum 

A  whispered  promise  low, 
Of  golden  Summers  still  to  come, 

Like  those  of  long  ago. 

And  yet,  o'er  all  the  sweet  perfume 
There  creeps  some  haunting  strain, 

Some  fear,  lest  nevermore  the  bloom 
Might  seem  so  sweet  again. 


Memphis.  499 

With  less  of  harmony  than  this, 

Some  discord  in  the  strain; 
Or  still  the  subtler  instinct  miss 

Some  link  from  out  the  chain. 

Some  sense  of  loss  that  sweeps  across 

The  Summer's  fire  and  gold, 
For  those  to  come,  when  all  undone, 

The  heart  lies  still  and  cold. 

Oh,  soul  forget !  let  no  regret 

Find  place  within  the  dream;' 
For  far  again  o'er  hill  and  plain 

The  Summer  reigns  supreme  ; 

Like  some  proud  queen,  forever  set 

Upon  a  throne  divine, 
Within  whose  fabled  coronet 

The  countless  jewels  shine. 


MEMPHIS* 


The  moonbeams  in  splendor  are  resting  to-night,. 
And  folding  the  city  in  mantles  of  light ; 
But  darkly  the  silence  of  shroud  and  of  pall 
Seems  resting  forever  on  court  and  on  hall; 
Seems  grieving  in  terror  o'er  each  darkened  door 
For  voices  and  footsteps  returning  no  more; 
For  grimly  the  phantom  of  horror  and  woe 
Rests  under  the  glory  of  moonlight  below. 

The  breezes  bear  ever  a  moan  and  a  prayer 
From  Southern  hearts  sinking  in  grief  and  despair; 
And  grimly  and  coldly  from  tower  and  wall 
The  quivering  moonbeams  so  fitfully  fall, 

*  Upon  the  cessation  of  the  Yellow  Fever  scourge. 


500  Memphis. 

While  weirdly  the  shadow  of  tree  and  of  leaf, 
Rests  over  the  pavement  in  darker  relief. 
A  phantom  lurks  ever  unseen  in  each  street; 
Though  silent  its  footsteps  with  swift,  flying  feet; 
And  darkly  despairing  away  from  its  breath 
The  fairest  and  bravest  arc  sinking  in  death. 

The  festal  halls  echo  no  more  to  the  tread 
Of  footsteps  whose  flcctncss  has  faded  and  lie  1. 
The  singer's  voice  silent,  while  never  a  song 
Sounds,  breaking  the  stillm-  :ul  so  long; 

The  voice's  rich  nation  that  held  in  its  thrall 
The  pulses  of  thousands,  is  hu-hc >d  'neath  the  pall; 
Those  silently  listening  while  sweet  accents  fell, 
In  silence  still  deeper  arc  wrapt  by  a  spell. 
And  burning  lips  madly  in  moanings  repeat 
The  memories  of  moments  so  fleeting  and  sweet; 
The  memories  of  moments,  ere  fever's  fierce  pain 
Like  darkness  swept  surging  o'er  heart  and  o'er  brain. 

The  breezes  creep  softly  through  silence  and  gloom 
Like  shadowy  whisperings  afar  from  the  tomb; 
But  never  the  moontidc  with  wondcrous  calm 
In  pity  comes  1  ihe  stricken  a  balm. 

And  casting  all  passion  forever  aside, 
Forgetting  all  triumph,  n  all  pride, 

The  servant  and  master  together  now  stand 
With  footsteps  close  pressing  Kternity's  strand. 


Though  risen  from  darkness  in  strength  and  in  pride, 

With  beauty  and  splendor  again  at  thy  si 

Still  humbled  by  sorrow,  and  led  by  pain, 

The  memory  of  darl.  -in; 

And  lonely  hearths  waiting,  and  lonelier  hea, 

In  silence  bear  ever  their  desolate  parts. 


Dying.  501 

DYING 


Dying,  still  dying,  dying, 

To-night  in  dimness  gray; 
Mocked  by  the  shadows  flying, 
Folding  of  white  hands  lying 
Wearily  now  to-day. 

Life  with  its  fevered  dreaming 

Far  in  the  misty  Past ; 
Fled  with  its  mirage  gleaming, 
Only  a  misty  seeming — 

Naught  in  his  need  at  last. 

Fading  and  growing  dimmer 

Far  in  the  distance  deep; 
Fled  with  its  shine  and  shimmer, 
Gone  with  its  gleam  and  glimmer, 
Closer  the  shadows  creep. 

What  of  it  all  availing — • 
What  when  it  all  is  done  ? — 

Only  the  life-light  failing, 

Only  a  white  face  paling, 
Dying  at  set  of  sun. 

Mists  of  the  darkening  river, 
Death  and  its  waters  chill; 

Only  a  moan  and  shiver, 

Faintly  the  pulses  quiver, 
Settling  of  features  still. 

Softly  the  shadows  sever, 
Merging  at  last  in  rest; 
Life  with  its  strife  forever, 
Naught  but  a  vain  endeavor, 
Fitful  and  weak  at  best. 


502  T7/6-  Flight  of  Night. 

Tossed  by  the  tempests  shifting, 

Beaten  and  cast  aside-; 
Borne  by  the  breakers  lifting, 
Helpless,  resistless,  drifting 
Out  with  the  ebbing  tick-. 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  NIGHT. 

The  fading  light  grew  dimmer 

•<>nd  the  mountain  chain — 
She  watched  the  first  star  glimmer 

Above  the  misty  main— 
Then  drew  her  robe  of  shimmer 

And  fled  across  the  plain. 

And  faint  o'er  feast  and  r. 

Where  mirthful  accents  rung— 
In  drooping,  wild  dishevel 

Her  dusky  tresses  ll 
That  darkened  hill  and  level, 

Like  sable  draperies  hung. 

The  faint  breath  of  her  sighing, 

Swept  low  through  Summer  bowers; 

And  glistening  I  ear-drops  1\  ; 

Blazed  o'er  the  .sleeping  ll<>\vers — 

•  ill  with  footsteps  living, 
She  swept  the  circling  hours. 

#  *  * 

Where  sable  1 

And  crimson  banners  sway — 
She  sank  in  silence  tender, 

And  white,  and  solemn  lay 
Within  the  ^ii-tening  splendor, 
Before   tl 


Weariness.  503 


WEARINESS. 


By  the  stillness  and  shadow  surrounded, 

I  lie  in  the  mystical  light, 
Where  the  limits  of  vision  are  bounded 

Alone  by  the  confines  of  night 

O'er  the  silence  of  city  and  river 

Night's  scintillant  splendors  blaze  still, 

Like  far  beacon  fires  kindled  forever 
O'er  ramparts  of  mountain  and  hill. 

Through  the  infinite  spaces  upleading, 
Faint  silvered  and  circled  with  light, 

Still  I  watch  the  white  pathways  receding^ 
That  traverse  the  kingdom  of  night 

And  o'er  hamlets  and  far  sleeping  meadows, 

The  silence  of  slumber  is  set; 
But  O,  Sovereign  of  darkness  and  shadows  ! 

It  haunts  me — I  cannot  forget ! 

Though  the  night-wind's  low  mystical  sobbing 
May  still  the  long  grass  o'er  the  plains, 

It  but  quickens  the  fever  that  throbbing 
Still  lingers  and  burns  in  my  veins. 

For  the  embers  of  higher  hopes  nameless, 
Still  through  the  dull  ashes  of  life, 

At  times  unextinguished  and  tameless 
Will  quicken  and  kindle  to  strife. 

I  have  followed  far  mirages  fleeting, 

That  ever  eluded  my  grasp ; 
I  have  reached  for  each  phantom  retreating, 

And  shadows  remained  in  my  clasp. 


504  A   Song  of  the  Tropic  Seas. 

But  soft  let  the  vine  leaves  low  thrilling, 
Bring  never  a  tone  of  regret. 

As  with  shadow  and  silence  soft  stilling, 
To-night  let  me  only  forget; 

Of  all  life  with  its  luring  draughts  proffered, 
That  surfeit  with  gladness  or  pain; 

As  forgetful  that  ever  I  suffered, 
Or  reached  for  a  phantom  in  vain. 

:t  to  rest  in  the  star-beams'  faint  sparkle, 
Unconscious,  oblivious  to  all, 
t  as  one  of  the  shadows  that  circle, 
And  darkle,  and  over  me  fall. 

But  as  one  of  the  night-le,:\  <-;  that  shiver 
Beneath  its  dark  mystery  rolled; 

Or  but  as  the  far  star-beams  that  quiver, 
As  all  un impassioned  and  cold. 


A  SONG  OF  THE  TROPIC  SEAS. 

O,  quaint  are  the  jeweled  isles  half  hidden, 

Set  in  the  heart  of  the  restless  seas; 
Thrilled  by  their  harmonies  all  unbidden, 

Wrapped  in  their  marvelous  m\ 

and  white  in  the  gleaming  splendor 
:itly  rolled  to  the  shining  strand, 
With  a  tranquil  motion  white  and  tender, 
Soft  as  the  touch  of  a  jewi.Ied  hand. 

Morning  and  evening  the  listless  waters 

Lift  to  the  kiss  of  the  tropic  breeze, 
Sweet  as  the  dreams  of  their  brown-skinned  daughters, 

Lulled  by  the  song  of  the  long,  low  seas; 


Inspiration.  5°5 

Or  when  the  dusk  barks  dancing,  whiten 
Far  on  their  phosphorent  trails  of  light, 

And  the  stars  of  the  tropics  blaze  and  brighten 
Under  the  arch  of  the  vaulted  night. 

And  the  round  earth  still  turns  on  and  over, 
Filled  with  its  song  and  faint  with  fire; 

As  ever  the  heart  of  a  restless  rover 
Turns  again  to  the  soul's  desire. 

Oh,  what  of  the  world's  strife  onward  ranging, 
And  what  though  the  great  dim  sea  divides ! 

And  what  of  it  all,  while  kept  unchanging 

Still  are  the  moons  and  the  strange  white  tides ! 


INSPIRATION. 


She  heard  strange  sweet-voiced  singers 

Across  the  unseen  seas ; 
And  caught  with  fitful  fingers 

The  mystic  melodies; 

The  tide  of  rich  expression 

From  some  strange  source  unknown,; 
The  boundless  fire  and  passion, 

As  from  some  central  throne. 

And  followed  phantoms  fleeting 

O'er  fancy's  purple  seas, 
Where  mirages  retreating 

Melt  into  mysteries. 

She  turned  and  left  the  schemer 

Forever  to  his  schemes — 
And  stood  henceforth  a  dreamer 

Within  a  land  of  dreams. 


506  Antony  After  the  Defeat. 

ANTONY  AFTER  THE  DEFEAT. 


What  matters  now, 

My  heart  and  brow, 
What  thunders  beat  the  shore  ? 

I  lie,  O  Sweet, 

Before  thy  feet, 
And  would  forcvcrmore ! 

So  weak  and  strange — 

What  woeful  change? 
Thy  tears  should  give  me  strength, 

To  sweep  the  foe, 

And  lay  them  low, 
Beyond  thine  Empire's  length  ! 

Too  late  !  too  late  ! 

From  fields  of  fate 
The  wandering  bugles  peal; 

And  faint  and  far 

O'er  bond  and  bar, 
The  dying  thunders  reel ; 

As  rifted  back 

O'er  wrath  and  wrack, 
The  cloud-mist  drifts  away — 

And  in  a  maze 

With  its  dim  ha/e, 
My  life  and  th<>i>  lay, 

Once  more  thy  face 

Bend  down  apace  ! 
The  mists  between  us  rise — 

I  only  know 

That  here  be-low, 
I  go  from  Parad 


TJie  Sunset  Palace.  507 

I  drift — I  pass 

For  aye,  alas ! 
Nor  Heaven's  deep  rapture  thrilled, 

Might  give  such  bliss 

As  only  this, 
My  dream  of  earth  fulfilled  ! 

Hark  !  soft  and  low, 

The  Nile's  far  flow 
Is  sounding  in  my  ears, 

Like  some  dim  dream, 

Adown  the  stream 
Of  long,  forgotten  years. 

Dark  legions  wait 

At  Egypt's  gate, 
Their  galleys  throng  the  shore ; 

Oh  Gods  !  to  wake 

For  thy  sweet  sake — 
To  live  and  die  once  more ! 


THE  SUNSET  PALACE. 

I  watched  the  sunset  splendors  wake 

When  clay's  last  glory  falls, 
And  crimson  surges  rise  and  break 

Through  all  the  rifted  halls, 
Until  their  changes  seemed  to  make 

A  glory  as  of  walls, 

Whose  pillars  caught  the  crimson  stain,. 

And  white  as  marble  some ; 
And  as  o'er  all  the  sunset  plain 

I  watched  the  cloud  shapes  come, 
Dim,  lingering  legends  in  the  brain, 

Were  woven  into  one. 


508  77/6-  Si//tsct  Palace. 

I  dreamed  and  slept;  a  hundred  years 
Had  wrought  their  changes  o'er, 

And  still  the  children's  children  kept 
Their  revels  as  before  ; 

And  silken  raiments  softly  swept 
The  polished  marble  floor. 

And  then  upon  my  idle  gaze, 
Beyond  the  gathering  night, 

And  down  through  all  the  winding  ways 
Upon  my  wondering  sight, 

The  towers  and  turrets  were  ablaze 
In  one  long  flood  of  light. 

Swift  as  a  poniard  from  its  sheath 
Might  cleave  the  startled  air, 

I  saw  without  the  jasmine  wreath 
Gleam  white  as  some  despair; 

And  hollow  chambers  glowed  beneath 
With  an  unearthly  glare. 

Where  all  the  dead  were  laid  to  rest 
With  funeral  rite  and  urn, 

And  ghostly  footfalls  never  pressed 
The  paths  that  backward  turn, 

I  saw  close  clasped  each  honored  guest — 
The  cold,  small,  writhing  worm. 

And  when  above  within  the  lull 
I  saw  the  red  floods  shine, 

And  all  the  brimming  goblets  full 
Were  raised  and  flashed  in  line, 
:ieath  from  out  each  grinning  skull 
Death's  cold  guests  sipped  their  wine. 

And  undermined  were  tower  and  wall, 

And  all  the  sp  ice  about; 
A  deadly  faintness  swept  o'er  all, 


To  a  Rose.  509 

A  mist  o'er  mirth  and  rout ; 

I  heard  the  dim  foundations  fall, 

And  all  the  lights  were  out ! 

And  at  the  echo  long  and  loud 

That  crashed  from  tower  and  steep, 
I  started — for  the  crimson  cloud 

Had  drifted  o'er  the  deep, 
And  paled  like  some  white,  winding  shroud 

With  its  long  westward  sweep. 


TO  A  ROSE. 

Rose  with  thy  kindred  clinging 
Unto  the  same  green  stem, 

How  shall  the  wild  winds  flinging, 
Drift  thee  apart  from  them  ! 

Fair  as  a  dreamer  bending 

Unto  each  zephyr  low; 
Sweet  with  thy  dreaming  ending, 

Under  the  sunset's  glow. 

Still  with  a  sigh  forever, 

Jeweled  and  blazed  with  light, 

Faint  with  a  crimson  shiver 
Under  the  starry  night. 

Brightness  and  breath  of  morning; 

Closer  the  petals  cling; 
Pallor  and  hush  of  warning, 

Thrilled  by  each  wandering  win 

Only  the  old,  old  story ! 

Blossom,  and  bud,  and  bloom; 
Fading  of  light  and  glory, 

Faintness  and  dead  perfume. 


5io  The  Eddy  stone. 

THE    EDDYSTONJ..  * 


In  ceaseless  eddies  swirling, 

The  rising  titles  make  moan, 
With  scornful  white  lips  curling, 
Their  giant  forces  hurling 

Around  the  Kddystonc. 

Long  years  wild  waters  taunted 

And  crushed  all  in  their  clasp, 
Till  fearless  hearts  undaunted, 
With  skillful  hands  have  planted 

Thee  in  their  very  grasp. 

1  billows  clash  and  sever, 

And  lash  themselves  in  wrath, 
With  futile  vain  endeavor, 
In  wild  fierce  passion  ever, 

Would  sweep  thcc  from  their  path  ; 

spring  in  sullen  wonder 
Unto  thine  upturned  face, 
Then  madly  dash  asunder, 
And  break  in  in u filed  thunder 
ound  thy  rock-bound  base. 

Thy  beacon  flashes  cheery, 

When  bitter  ten:  tvc, 

Stream  o'er  the  waters  dreary 
To  snatch  weak  sailors  weary, 

From  wind  and  rock  and  wave. 

Strange  sea-birds  wildly  shrieking, 
With  faint  wings  beat  thy  breast  ; 
-in  wrathful  tempests  wreaking 
-ir  awful  vengeance,  seeking 
Tin*  welcome  kind 

*  A  crlrbratrd   1  -intrd  in  the  English  Channel  in  the    midst  of  what  an    em- 

phatic  wr.tcr  ho^  called  a  "  Hcli 


Daybreak.  5 1 1 

The  long  pent  wrath  of  heaven 

In  wild  dark  anger  falls  ; 
The  shattered  tempest  riven, 
In  fury  fiercely  driven, 

Bursts  on  thy  frowning  walls. 

Through  midnight  dark  still  waking, 

Thou  keepcst  watch  alone  ; 
When  maddened  tides  are  breaking, 
Their  ocean  bed  forsaking, 

Thou  hearst  their  sullen  moan. 

Long  stand  through  storms  assailing, 

O,  watcher  of  the  wave ! 
When  hope  and  strength  are  failing, 
When  life  itself  is  paling, 

Reach  forih  thy  hand  to  save ! 


DAYBREAK. 


A  dread,  deeper  gloom  o'er  the  meadows, 
Low  lifted  o'er  mountain  and  sea; 

A  strange,  solemn  shiver  of  shadows, 
That  whisper,  and  linger,  and  flee; 

As  soft  through  the  sable  gloom  rifted 
Creep  slowly  the  tremulous  thrills, 

And  faint  crimson  curtains  uplifted 
Afar  o'er  the  sentinel  hills; 

As  morn  from  her  Orient  chamber 
All  burnished  in  crimson  and  gold, 

Looks  forth  from  the  glory  of  amber 
O'er  Earth  in  its  silence  still  rolled, 

That  waits  in  the  'raptured  hush  tender, 
As  bound  by  enchantment's  dark  wile, 

To  break  into  brightness  and  splendor 
Beneath  the  glad  light  of  her  smile. 


The  J'\°tis/  of  La  Pnnssima. 


THE  FEAST  OF  LA  PURISSIMA* 

A  sacred  fe 
A  1)  day; 

From  \Ye.st  aiul  Fast, 
The  throng  increased, 
As  great  .'iiul  least 
Came  forth  to  pray. 

O'er  mountains  worn, 

Soft  fell  the  glow, 
In  splendor  born, 
O'er  flower  and  thorn, 
On  that  fair  morn 

Of  long  ago. 

The  Mission  bell 

Called  far  and  wide; 
And  like  a  spell, 
O'er  hill  and  dell 
The  stillness  fell 

That  morning-tide; 

Save  'neath  the  glow, 

A  stifled  breeze 
That  hushed  the  flow, 
And  whispered  low 

Of  wrath  and  woe 

Unto  the  seas. 

What  white  lips  pressed 

The  shining  shore, 
That  lulled  to  i 
I  ach  foamy  cr- 

!  troubled  breast 

\Yith  whispered  lore  ! 

a  morning  of  Peccni'  -cs  of  the  F<  '    irissima 

iolcnt  earthquake  precipitated  the 
i\cr  the  entire  assemblage  of  km- 


The  Feast  of  La  Purissima  513 

The  waters  sighed 

With  softer  flow, 
And  far  and  wide, 
Upon  the  tide 
The  accents  died 

In  murmurs  low. 

Sweet  echoes  roam 

Through  winding  ways; 
From  arch  and  dome, 
Above  each  home, 
Across  the  foam, 

Sweet  hymns  of  praise. 

What  peace  the  while 

That  morning  saw, 
Whose  lingering  smile 
Touched  tower  and  tile, 
And  flushed  the  aisle 

In  silent  awe ! 

Saw  Padres  stand, 

Who  fondly  deemed 
Their  convert  band 
Snatched  as  a  brand 
From  Satan's  hand; 

Perchance  few  dreamed — 

i 
Dreamed  of  that  time 

When  they  were  free ; 
No  church  regime — 
Their  vesper  chime 
The  ceaseless  rhyme 

Sung  by  the  sea. 

To  be  again 

Not  slaves,  but  men; 
No  galling  pain 


514  '  -i 


Of  serfdom's  chain, 
Nor  labor  vain  ; 

No  priesthood  then. 

r  hearts  would  turn 
To  memory; 
And  l<>ni;ini;-  yearn, 
Though  forced  to  learn 
Life's  K  rn  — 

;ty. 

And  kneeling  1 

In  faith  and  prayer, 
Or  in  the  idow 
Of  loni;  aijo  — 
\\"hat  cr>*  below 

That  Miiote  the  air  ! 

\\'hat  madness  crept! 

With  awful  roar 
Fierce  upward  swept 
t  "nchained,  unkept, 
The:  wild  BeOS  leapt 

Upon  the  ^hnre,  ! 

The  dark  t  •   nt 

And  n  -iin, 

fiercely  M-nt 

The  tr<  nt 

The  firmament, 

And  shook  the-  plain. 

A  crashl   A  knell! 

A  mi-hty  fall  ! 
Like  some  dark  spell, 
The  swaying  bell 
And  \a>t  walls  fell 

Par  over  all. 


The  Feast  of  La  Purissima.  5 1 5 

O'er  dreamer  white 

At  last  released ; 
In  gloom  of  night 
Beneath  its  site 
Prone  neophyte, 

And  trembling  priest 

The  waters  fled 

And  backward  rolled ; 
In  silence  dread, 
All  white  and  dead, 
Within  their  bed 

Lay  still  and  cold. 

Wild  wandering  calls 

Faint  in  suspense; 
O'er  riven  halls, 
And  reeling  walls, 
A  stillness  falls 

Dread  and  intense. 

From  out  that  storm 

Of  ruin  dim, 
Slow  outward  borne 
Each  mangled  form, 
Whose  lips  that  morn 

Sang  praise  to  Him. 

*  *  *  * 

The  granite  chain 

Looms  dim  and  gray; 
But  on  the  plain 
No  scars  remain, 
No  trace  of  pain 

Or  strife  to-day. 

A  mystic  sign 

In  faint  repose, 
The  waters  shine 


516  The  Port  on  the  Hill. 

A  gleaming  line 
Of  foamy  brine 

Where  billows  close. 


The  Mission  stands 

Again  to-day; 
But  other  bands 
From  other  lands 
With  folded  hands 

Kneel  there  to  pray. 


THE  FORT  ON  THE  HILL. 


O,  grimly  and  gray  in  the  gloaming, 
When  zephyrs  at  twilight  are  roaming, 

Still  frowns  the  dark  fort  on  the  hill! 
But  dust  is  on  banner  and  pennon, 
And  rust  is  on  sabre  and  cannon, 

The  echoes  of  thunder  arc  still. 

All  silent,  unguarded  of  entry, 
And  foeman,  or  soldier,  or  sentry 

May  Come  and  may  go  as  they  will  — 
But  whisper  and  stir  of  the 
That  sigh  as  the  faint  zephyr 

Around  the  dark  fort  on  the  hill ; 


r>u t  tangle  of  blo^om  and  crcopr 
Above  the  still  ranks  of  the  slrcp' 

That  lie  by  the  fort  on  the  hill; 
But  silence  and  ruin  prevailing, 
Slow  crumbling,  and  fading,  and  failing, 

For  aye  the  dark  fort  on  the  hill. 


Phantasy.  517 


PHANTASY. 


Strange  gleaming  fingers  faintly  lift 

The  veil  of  fancy  wide ; 
The  shining  pinions  softly  drift 

Adown  the  starry  tide. 

An  instant  sweep  of  unseen  wings, 

A  light  beyond  the  stars ; 
Where  heaven's  burning  censer  swings, 

The  flash  of  golden  bars. 

Beyond  the  far  Plutonian  night 
With  star-gemmed  sable  pall, 

O'er  shining  worlds  enthroned  in  light, 
What  gleaming  girdles  fall ! 

From  what  far  misty  kingdom  sent, 

Yon  shining  tidings  came, 
That  o'er  the  distant  firmament 

Across  the  zenith  flame  ? 

Beyond  the  far  horizon's  rim 

The  secret  splendors  steal; 
A  shining  band  of  distance  dim 

Athwart  the  solemn  seal. 

A  flash — a  sweep  across  the  sky — • 
Some  courier  speeds  alone; 

Like  countless  tapers  flung  on  high, 
The  shining  lights  are  strown. 

Then  o'er  the  dim  divergent  ways, 

A  mist  steals  upward  o'er; 
And  faint  the  constellations  blaze, 

Like  lights  from  some  far  shore. 


518  77/6'  vSV^v  of  Mom. 


THE  SIEGE  OF  MONTEREY. 

Through  barred  windows  quaintly 

The  soft  shadows  lay, 
Where  fair  aintly 

Low  kneeling  to  pray, 

Looked  up  in  dismay — 
As  bugles  called  faintly 

O'er  far  Monterey. 

Anon  through  the 

O'er  archway  and  stair, 

Frorn  out  the  far  pla 

Through  casement  and  square, 
and  prayer, 

Looked  clown  the  dark  faces— 
Ah  !  dark,  but  so  fair. 

In  splcnd  »r  adorning 

Far  yucca  and  oak, 

A  brighter  gleam  woke — 
But  silent  in  scorning 

No  oracle  spoke, 
Till  over  the  morni: 
With  never  a  warn: 

The  battle-storm  broke; 

Swift  ri\i-n  asufl 

That  darkened  t! 
And  blrnt  its  deep  thun 

With  revel  and  r 

So  rudely,  alas  ! 
As  startled  in  \ 

The}'  saw  the  ranks  ; 

What  wild 

Swift  thrilled  M 
From  farther  plains  fleeting, 


The  Siege  of  Monterey.  519 

In  hostile  array 
They  dash  to  the  fray, 
In  passionate  meeting 
That  darkens  the  day. 

And  fitfully  shifted, 

And  blown  by  a  breath, 
The  red  tides  are  drifted 
Of  carnage  and  death ; 

Whose  cannon-palled  wreath 
Is  rifted  beneath, 
Where  sabres  arc  lifted — 

A  flash  from  each  sheath. 

All  shrouded  and  shriven, 

The  weary  hours  show, 
Where  rended  and  riven 

The  deadly  lights  glow 

O'er  dark  lines  below, 
That  backward  arc  driven 

Before  the  dread  foe. 

On  madly  upbounding 

Where  spaces  reveal, 
And  crashing,  resounding, 

The  parapets  reel, 

With  peal  upon  peal; 
Through  corridors  sounding 

The  clashing  of  steel. 

With  curses  that  taunted, 

And  death  over  all, 
Though  bravely  undaunted, 

Beneath  the  dark  pall 

They  fight  to  the  fall, 
Strange  banners  arc  flaunted 

O'er  bastion  and  wall. 


52O  /;/  Mcmoriam. 

The  conflict  is  over 
With  .'ill  its  red  sway; 

The  smoke- wreaths  that  hover, 
Slow  circle  away 
Through  distances  gray, 

And  twilight  shades  cover 
Doomed,  lust  .Monterey. 

The  vanquished  surrender, 
The  last  note  is  pealed; 

'.it's  glory  falls  tender — 
Though  never  revealed 
To  those  on  the  field, 

Who  ^a/e  to  its  splendor 
With  eyes  all  unsealed. 

And  o'er  the  soft  waters 
tropic  airs  fanned. 

The  night  breeze  that  loiters 
Above  the  dim  strand, 
Sweeps  over  the  land 

The  moan  of  her  daughters, 
O'er  far  Rio  Grande. 


IX  MKMORIAM. 


[in. N K Y    \v.    LONGP r. \. \. o w.] 

When  splendors  of  sir  re  cloven 

And  kindled  o'er  steeple  and  plain, 

What  visions  of  glory  were  woven, 
Reflected  again  in  the  brain! 

Illumined  by  far  fitful  flashes 

When  sunset's  red  splendors  were  cast, 
What  embers  faint  blazed  'mid  the  ashes, 

Then  darkened  and  paled  to  the  past! 


The  Prophecy.  521 

The  sun  with  no  presage  of  sorrow 

Sank  low  in  a  glory  of  gold, 
With  never  a  hint  of  the  morrow — 

The  dreamer  all  pulseless  and  cold. 

The  closing  of  lips  pallor-tinted, 

Where  murmurous  echoes  still  clung; 

All  faint  with  the  glory  half  hinted — 
The  rapture  no  poet  hath  sung. 

Ah  !  silent,  deserted  and  shattered, 
Earth's  image  shall  nevermore  thrill; 

A  casket  whose  jewels  are  scattered, 
But  priceless  and  dear  to  us  still ! 


THE  PROPHECY. 


"And  he  will  be  a  wild  man;  his  hand  will  be  against  every  man,  and  every  man's  hand 
against  him," 

I  read  those  words  of  warning — 
And  harsh  and  cold  and  strange, 

Across  thy  life's  young  morning 

They  fall  as  if  in  scorning, 

With  all  their  world  of  change. 

The  shining  leaves  are  driftea 

By  Syrian  winds  in  play; 
A  child's  bright  eyes  uplifted 
'Neath  sheen  and  shadow  shifted. 

With  heart  as  light  as  they. 

I  see  swift  birds  of  passage 

With  faint  wings  circling  "slow; 
They  bring  with  them  no  message, 
The  breezes  bear  no  presage 

Upon  their  murmurs  low. 


522  The 


And  distant  she 

Their  flocks  up 

ond  the  river's  wind: 
The  son  ling 

The  gleaming  golden  grain. 

\Yhat  dream  of  some  dark  rover! 

O,  Ishmacl  lift  thy  hand  ! 
But  sunbeams  bright  glance  over 
To  kiss  the  blooms  that  cover 

The  wild  sweet  fragrant  land. 

The  shining  lca\es  go  drifting, 

And  well  it  is  to-day! 
Thy  dimpled  hands  uplifting, 

th  sheen  and  shadow  shifting, 

Thou  sccst  but  them  in  play! 

The  golden  moments  leaving, 
Go  drifting  toward  the  gate, 
Through  mira-o:  lands  deceiving, 

O  * 

Where  Destiny  sits 

The  tangled  webs  of  fate. 

I  close  my  i 

-V,  1  dre   ;:i  of  that  most  fair  ; 
All  alter  yea  ttiiv  — 

J  O  «*"> 

brined  li  ,iit  setting 

The  sweetest  memory  t! 

A  glimpse  of  clouds  low  sweeping 
Acr  1  west  ; 

A  softer  silence  cnvpii     , 

A  careless  in  la  ing 

Upon  its  mother's  breast. 


The  Coliseum.  523 

THE  COLISEUM. 


Thou  standst  athwart  the  solemn  space, 

A  spectre  weird  and  ghast, 
That  lookst  with  pallid  stricken  face 

Back  to  the  fleeting  Past ! 

A  mighty  ruin  grand  and  lone, 

High  looming  over  all, 
That  watched  o'er  wreck  and  ruin  strown, 

Earth's  proudest  Empire  fall. 

The  ceaseless'  sands  of  ages  drift 

Around  thee  sad  and  lone; 
Thy  vast  foundations  grandly  lift 

Their  massive  walls  of  stone. 

What  silent  secrets,  century-sealed, 

Beneath  that  sunken  rim  ! 
What  mystic  anthems  swelled  and  pealed 

Along  those  arches  dim  ! 

Within  the  far  recesses  set 

A  strange  sepulchral  tone; 
Perchance  thy  dark  walls  echo  yet 

Some  gladiator's  groan. 

Strange  spectral  shadows  linger  long 

Within  thy  dim  repose, 
That  once  again,  clark-limbed  and  strong 

In  mortal  combat  close. 

But  naught  save  vine  leaves,  whispering  stirred, 

Their  fitful  changes  fling, 
Where  oft  the  vast  walls  listening  heard 

The  Roman  plaudits  ring. 


524  The  Coliseum. 

And  gazing  on  fore  verm  ore 

Through  distance  dim  and  wide, 

IVyond  the  silent  sluggish  shore 
O'er  Tiber's  yellow  tide, 

\Yhat  sccst  thou  'neath  those  olden  skies 

Ad  own  the  aisle  of  Time? 
"What  vanished  visions  grandly  rise 

Of  Empires  in  their  prime 

Of  strength  supreme  in  that  proud  hour 
When  white  fleets  thronged  the  sea 

Dread  monarchs  in  despotic  power, 
And  slaves  with  bended  knee  ! 

All  laurel  crowned  the  victor's  head, 
The  glittering  pageant  train, 

And  royal  captives  conquered,  led 
Beneath  each  jeweled  chain. 

Forever  vanished  now,  alas  ! 

Do  they  not  still  to-day, 
Before  thy  misty  memory  pass 

In  spectral  dim  array  ? 

And  stirred  in  dark  unrcstful  scorn 
A  voice  comes  from  the  seas; 

Flow  back  through  gateways  old  and  worn, 
Oh,  tide  of  memories  ! 

The  thronging  whispers  faintly  haunt 

h  crumbling  wall  and  dome, 
Like  cli  hoes  creep  to  taunt 

Thy  fallen  mistress — Rome. 

"O,  phantom  of  the  days  gone  by! 

In  conquest's  fierce  desire, 
Doth  not  again  thy  heart  beat  high 

With  all  its  olden  fire? 


. 

The  Coliseum.  525 

"And  humbled  Carthage,  suppliant,  low; 

Doth  not  remembrance  still, 
Of  that  proud,  haughty,  fallen  foe, 

Thy  lifeless  pulses  thrill  ? 

"Ah  !  yet  the  bitter  memory  ! 

That  desolation  strown, 
In  after  years  came  back  to  thee, 

Full  measure  of  thine  own  !" 

Still  o'er  Time's  fateful  changes  cast, 

The  mournful  echoes  sigh, 
But  nevermore  from  out  the  Past 

Comes  message  or  reply. 

Though  deeds  of  strife  that  vexed  the  land 

Are  lost  in  Time's  dark  flood, 
The  silent  witnesses  still  stand 

To  carnivals  of  blood  ! 

What  surging  billows  from  Life's  sea 

Pressed  through  thy  portals  wide  ! 
The  flower  of  Roman  chivalry, 

That  thronged  the  midnight  tide. 

The  savage,  fierce,  barbaric  show 

Of  human  strife  and  pain; 
Beneath  the  brilliant  jeweled  glow 

The  dim  arena's  stain. 

And  high  above  and  over  all, 

What  brows  of  beauty  shone, 
With  hearts  as  deaf  to  pity's  call 

As  were  thy  walls  of  stone  ! 

What  jewels  flashed;  what  splendors  blazed 

O'er  each  relentless  line, 
Where  oft  the  glazing  eyes  were  raised 

In  vain  for  mercy's  sign  ! 


./    //*/>//  of  the  Summer. 

Far  fiercer  than  the  crimson  tide, 

Than  all  the  lions'  roar, 
That  human  cry  unsatisfied, 

That  still  demanded  more  ! 

What  souls  were  red  with  human  blood, 
Whose  hands  had  scorned  tin-  .stain 

Of  all  that  cruel  crimson  flood 
']  hat  sank  on  Tiber's  plain  ! 

But  hearts  and  hands  have  long  been  dust, 
Life's  passions  still  and  cold; 

Proud  kindly  swords  and  sceptres  rust 
Within  the  ages  old. 

And  through  thy  ruins  dim  and  hoar 
The  sunbeams  seek  the  plain, 

Now  knowing,  haply  nevermore, 
The  olden  crimson  stain. 

Yet  ever  still  through  time  and  ; 
Stand  forth  though  years  recede, 

A  record  dim — a  crimson  page — 
That  all  who  will  may  read  ! 


A  WISH  OF  THE  SUMMER. 

( )h,  once  and  to  all  surrender 

With  never  a  task  or  care! 
Hut  to  Haunt  and  bask  in  its  splendor, 

As  yon  bright-winded  insect  there; 

.And  never  to  count  or  re 

I  he  hours  we  might  lose  and  dream  ; 
Hut  to  follow  where  still  it  might  beckon, 
I  he  mirage  o'er  hill  and  .stream- 


Uuforgiven.  527 

But  to  watch  from  the  blue  skies  under, 

The  marvel  of  sea  and  plain ; 
With  never  a  doubt  or  wonder 

To  trouble  the  heart  or  brain ; 

For  a  day  of  the  fleet  life  fearless, 

To  linger  and  loiter  on, 
As  brilliant  and  bright  and  careless 

Of  all  that  has  come  and  gone; 

But  to  watch  each  gay,  wandering  comer — 

Type  of  our  own  human  life — 
Still  seeking  through  soft  skies  of  Summer 

Each  fancy  with  mirages  rife! 

To-day,  with  the  heart  of  the  rover, 
We  seek  for  the  sweets  of  each  bower; 

To-morrow — for  aye  it  is  over, 

Hushed  pinions  and  pale  drooping  flower! 


UNFORGIVEN. 


Scarce  a  whisper  trembled 
Through  the  silent  room, 

Where  proud  forms  assembled 
Stood  in  awe  and  gloom. 

Dim,  ancestral  faces 

Gazed  ad  own  the  walls, 

From  their  silent  places, 
Through  the  stately  halls. 

Through  the  silence  tender 
Fell  the  tapers'  glow, 

In  their  shrouded  splendor, 
O'er  the  faint  face  low. 


528  Unforgii-cn. 

Spake  the  dying  woman, 
Faint  her  breath  between: 

"  Haste  !  I  pray  you,  summon 
To  my  side  the  Queen ; 

"  In  God's  mercy  speeding, 

Lest  it  be  too  late, 
Bear  the  message,  pleading 

That  she  will  not  wait." 
*  *  *  # 

Bent  the  courtiers  lowly 
With  obedient  mien, 

As  before  them,  slowly, 
Stately  came  the  Queen. 

Thronged  the  mourners  pressing, 
As  in  queenly  pride 

Low  she  bent  caressing, 
At  her  favorite's  side. 

White,  uncomprehending, 
Seemed  she  past  all  strife^ 

Till  that  presence  bending, 
Roi  i in  faint  life. 

Struggling  toward  the  guerdon 
On  that  unseen  track, 

Still  the  spirit's  burden 
Lured  it  faintly  back. 

Wandering,  growing  dimmer 
Where  life's  pale  lamp  burned, 

With  its  last  faint  glimmer 
Reason '>  ray  returned. 

As  the  soft  hands  parted 
The  dark  tresses  by, 

Wild  the  dreamer  started 
With  a  gasping  cry. 


Un forgiven .  529 

"Through  the  dark  hours  lonely 

I  have  prayed  to  live, 
O,  my  Sovereign!  only 

Till  thou  shouldst  fonnvc! 

o 

"With  a  message  bidden, 

With  a  precious  prize, 
I  have  kept  it  hidden 

From  thy  gracious  eyes. 

"One  with  hope  receding, 

Trusting  all  to  me, 
Gave  this  token,  pleading 

It  be  sent  to  thcc. 

"That  some  promise  spoken 

Ere  misfortune's  thrall, 
This  fond  shining  token 

Surely  must  recall. 

"Counsel  strong  prevailing 

Wrought  upon  my  will ; 
Lest  thy  purpose  failing, 

Thou  shouldst  save  him  still.'* 

From  her  place  half  raising 

In  her  swift  surprise, 
Stood  the  Queen,  still  gazing 

With  wild,  startled  eyes. 

Suppliant  hands  in  meekness, 

Faint  appealing  clutch — 
"Human  hearts  arc  weakness 

Blame' me  not  too  much  !" 

Came  no  look  of  rancor 

For  a  moment's  space; 
Came  no  sound  or  answer 

From  the  Queen's  white  face. 

34 


530  Unj 

Thoughts  like  shadows  flying, 
Borne  on  memory's  tide, 

Of  young  Kssex  dying 
In  his  manhood's  pride, 

So  untimely  perished, 
By  her  will  decreed ; 

lie  so  fondly  cherished, 
Brave  in  word  and  deed; 

Till  false  tongues  abusing — 

Schemers  came  between  ; 
Traitors  all  accusing, 

Thronged  around  their  Queen. 

Till  convinced,  believing, 
Sad  she  scaled  his  fate; 

Still  in  secret  grieving, 
Penitent  too  late. 

Oh  !  the  late  unfolding 

Of  that  secret  lost ! 
Oh  !  the  base  withholding, 
•id  the  fearful  cost ! 

i ned  the  suppliant  slower 

she  ceased  to  live; 
:it  the  cry  sank  lower — 
"Oh  !  my  God,  forgive  !  " 

In  wild  passion  crying, 

kter  words  she  said ; 
Fiercely  shook  the  <1 
Countess  in  her  bed. 

"  Darest  thou  tell  me,  craven, 
With  thy  failing  breath, 

Of  that  promise  given, 
When  he  >leeps  in  death  ! 


Unforgivcn. 

"Be  the  gates  of  Heaven 
Banned  and  barred  to  thee, 

If  that  word  'forgiven' 

Needs  must  come  from  me ! 

"How  hast  thou  still  daring 

o 

Stood  before  my  face, 
High  in  favor,  sharing 

Fortune  through  my  grace — 

"Still  thine  intrigues  weaving, 
Scheming  all  the  while, 

Traitor  vile,  deceiving 
With  thy  Judas  smile?" 

But  on  ears  unheeding' 
Fell  the  words  she  said ; 

Ne'er  reproach  or  pleading 
Wake  again  the  dead. 

Through  the  hush  unbroken, 
With  quick,  nervous  grasp, 

Swift  she  drew  the  token 
From  death's  rigid  clasp. 

And  her  proud  heart  throbbing- 
With  each  burning  thought, 

Turned,  in  passion  sobbing, 
Darkly  from  the  spot. 

Nine  long  days  in  anguish 

And  repentance  sore, 
Did  the  proud  queen  languish 

On  the  palace  floor; 

In  her  sorrow  choosing 

Solitude  and  grief; 
Steadfastly  refusing 

Comfort  or  relief. 


531 


532  Uuj 

\Vhcn  tin-  tenth  morn  drift. 

On  ils  laggard  ; 
Wearily  she  lifted 

:it  her  haggard  face. 

And,  already  dy 

LVC  her  last  comman 
•n  sank  backward,  lying 
With  pale  folded  hands. 

Did  she,  too,  pray  dumbly 
In  that  last  dread  hour, 

With  her  hands  clasped  humbly 
O'er  their  i  .-? 

At  the  last  dread  f. 

in  eternal 
Lay  in  solemn  quiet 

That  Ion''  troubled  breast. 


. 


Subject  unforgiven, 

Unforgiving  Queen — 

Let  the  God  of  Heaven, 

Only,  judge  between! 


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